The  Boys' Life 

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THE  BOYS'   LIFE  OF 
ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/boyslifeofabrahanic 


STATUE   OF   ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.       BY    AlGl'STUS    ST.  GAl  DENS 


THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 
ABRAHAM   LINCOLN 


BY 

HELEN    NICOLAY 

WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY  JAY    HAMBIDGE 

AND  OTHERS 


NEW    YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 


Copyright,  1905,  1906,  by 
The  Century  Co. 


Published  Octobw,  1906 


Printed  in  IT.  S.  A. 


J 

Lin  com 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

i  A  President's  Childhood 3 

11  Captain  Lincoln 28 

in  Lawyer  Lincoln        ....     c     ...     49 

iv  Congressman  Lincoln 73 

v  The  Champion  of  Freedom 94 

vi  The  New  President 120 

vii  Lincoln  and  the  War 143 

viii  Unsuccessful  Generals 164 

ix  Freedom  for  the  Slaves   .     .     .     .     .     .184 

x  The  Man  Who  Was  President  ....  206 

xi  The  Turning  Point  of  the  War     .     .     .231 

xii  The  Conqueror  of  a  Great  Rebellion    .  255 

xiii  The  Fourteenth  of  April 279 


4 

cr 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  Statue  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  by  Augustus  St. 

Gaudens,  in  Lincoln  Park,  Chicago  .  Frontispiece 
The    Log   Cabin   in   which   Abraham    Lincoln    was 

Born  4 

House  near    Beechland,    Ky.,   in  which  Thomas 

Lincoln    and    Nancy    Hanks    were    Married, 

June    12,    1806       7 

View  of  Thomas  Lincoln's  Farm,  where  Abraham 

Lincoln    was    Born 12 

Leaf     from    Abraham    Lincoln's    Exercise-book, 

Written  about  his  Seventeenth  Year  ....  18 
He  Borrowed  Every  Book  in  the  Neighborhood     .     .     21 

On   the   Village    Green 43 

Lincoln's  Surveying  Instruments  and  Saddle-bag  .  52 
He  Took  Hold  of  the  Cradle  and  Led  the  Way  All 

the  Round 55 

The  Building  in  which  Lincoln  &  Stuart  had  their 

Law    Office,    Springfield 61 

Riding  the  Circuit 69 

The     House     in     which     Abraham     Lincoln     was 

Married 8? 

He  Always  Brought  a  Cheery  Atmosphere  into  the 

Dining-room 87 

Lincoln  Addressing  the  Jury  in  his  Defense  of  Jack 

Armstrong's  Son        95 

vii 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facsimile    of    Drawings    in    the    Patent    Office    of 
"A.    Lincoln's    Improved    Manner   of    Buoying 

Vessels" ioo 

The  Wigwam 123 

In  the  Telegraph  Office  at  Springfield 129 

The  House  in  which  Lincoln  Lived  when  He  was 

Elected    President 135 

Lincoln's  Executive  Office  and  Cabinet  Room  in  the 

White  House 147 

Receiving  the  News  of  the  Defeat  of  the  Union 

Troops  at  Bull  Run 159 

North  Front  of  the  War  Department,  Washington     .  171 

In  General  McClellan's  Tent 179 

The  Grand  Review  at  Falmouth  During  President 

Lincoln's  Visit       193 

Signing  the  Emancipation  Proclamation     .     .     .     .197 

The  Lad  Took  her   Picture   from  his   Pocket  and 

Showed  it  to  Him 217 

President  Lincoln  and  his  Son  "Tad" 225 

Address  Delivered  at  the  Dedication  of  the  Cemetery 

at  Gettysburg 234 

President  Lincoln's  Letter  to  General  Grant,  April, 

1864 241 

Photograph  of  Lincoln,  March  6,  1865     ....  262 

President  Lincoln  Leaving  the  Davis  Mansion     .     .  277 

The   Funeral   Car 291 

The    Monument    at    Springfield 293 


THE  BOYS'   LIFE  OF 
ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 
ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

i 

A  president's  childhood 

ABRAHAM  LINCOLN'S  forefathers  were 
L  pioneers — men  who  left  their  homes  to 
open  up  the  wilderness  and  make  the  way  plain 
for  others  to  follow  them.  For  one  hundred  and 
seventy  years,  ever  since  the  first  American  Lin- 
coln came  from  England  to  Massachusetts  in 
1638,  they  had  been  moving  slowly  westward 
as  new  settlements  were  made  in  the  forest. 
They  faced  solitude,  privation,  and  all  the  dan- 
gers and  hardships  that  beset  men  who  take  up 
their  homes  where  only  beasts  and  wild  men  have 
had  homes  before;  but  they  continued  to  press 
steadily  forward,  though  they  lost  fortune  and 
sometimes  even  life  itself,  in  their  westward  prog- 


4  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

ress.  Back  in  Pennsylvania  and  New  Jersey 
some  of  the  Lincolns  had  been  men  of  wealth 
and  influence.  In  Kentucky,  where  the  future 
President  was  born  on  February  12,  1809,  his 
parents  lived  in  deep  poverty.  Their  home  was 
a  small  log  cabin  of  the  rudest  kind,  and  nothing 
seemed  more  unlikely  than  that  their  child,  com- 


THE    LOG-CABIN    IN    WHICH    ABRAHAM     LINCOLN    WAS    BORN. 


ing  into  the  world  in  such  humble  surroundings, 
was  destined  to  be  the  greatest  man  of  his  time. 
True  to  his  race,  he  also  was  to  be  a  pioneer — not 
indeed,  like  his  ancestors,  a  leader  into  new 
woods  and  unexplored  fields,  but  a  pioneer  of 
a  nobler  and  grander  sort,  directing  the  thoughts 
of  men  ever  toward  the  right,  and  leading  the 
American  people,  through  difficulties  and  dan- 
gers and  a  mighty  war,  to  peace  and  freedom. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN.  5 

The  story  of  this  wonderful  man  begins  and 
ends  with  a  tragedy,  for  his  grandfather,  also 
named  Abraham,  was  killed  by  a  shot  from  an 
Indian's  rifle  while  peaceably  at  work  with  his 
three  sons  on  the  edge  of  their  frontier  clearing. 
Eighty-one  years  later  the  President  himself 
met  death  by  an  assassin's  bullet.  The  mur- 
derer of  one  was  a  savage  of  the  forest;  the 
murderer  of  the  other  that  far  more  cruel  thing, 
a  savage  of  civilization. 

When  the  Indian's  shot  laid  the  pioneer 
farmer  low,  his  second  son,  Josiah,  ran  to  a 
neighboring  fort  for  help,  and  Mordecai,  the 
eldest,  hurried  to  the  cabin  for  his  rifle. 
Thomas,  a  child  of  six  years,  was  left  alone  be- 
side the  dead  body  of  his  father;  and  as  Mor- 
decai snatched  the  gun  from  its  resting-place 
over  the  door  of  the  cabin,  he  saw,  to  his  hor- 
ror, an  Indian  in  his  war-paint,  just  stooping 
to  seize  the  child.  Taking  quick  aim  at  a  medal 
on  the  breast  of  the  savage,  he  fired,  and  the 
Indian  fell  dead.  The  little  boy,  thus  released, 
ran  to  the  house,  where  Mordecai,  firing  through 
the  loopholes,  kept  the  Indians  at  bay  until  help 
arrived  from  the  fort. 

It  was  this  child  Thomas  who  grew  up  to  be 
the  father  of  President  Abraham  Lincoln.  Af- 
ter the  murder  of  his  father  the  fortunes  of  the 


6  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

little  family  grew  rapidly  worse,  and  doubtless 
because  of  poverty,  as  well  as  by  reason  of  the 
marriage  of  his  older  brothers  and  sisters,  their 
home  was  broken  up,  and  Thomas  found  him- 
self, long  before  he  was  grown,  a  wandering 
laboring  boy.  TIe  lived  for  a  time  with  an 
uncle  as  his  hr  i  servant,  and  later  he  learned 
the  trade  of  carpenter.  He  grew  to  manhood 
entirely  without  education,  and  when  he  was 
twenty-eight  years  old  could  neither  read  nor 
write.  At  that  time  he  married  Nancy  Hanks, 
a  good-looking  young  woman  of  twenty-three, 
as  poor  as  himself,  but  so  much  better  off  as 
to  learning  that  she  was  able  to  teach  her  hus- 
band to  sign  his  own  name.  Neither  of  them 
had  any  money,  but  living  cost  little  on  the 
frontier  in  those  days,  and  they  felt  that  his  trade 
would  suffice  to  earn  all  that  they  should  need. 
Thomas  took  his  bride  to  a  tiny  house  in  Eliza- 
bethtown,  Kentucky,  where  they  lived  for  about 
a  year,  and  where  a  daughter  was  born  to  them. 
Then  they  moved  to  a  small  farm  thirteen 
miles  from  Elizabethtown,  which  they  bought 
on  credit,  the  country  being  yet  so  new  that 
there  were  places  to  be  had  for  mere  promises 
to  pay.  Farms  obtained  on  such  terms  were 
usually  of  very  poor  quality,  and  this  one  of 
Thomas  Lincoln's  was  no  exception  to  the  rule. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  9 

A  cabin  ready  to  be  occupied  stood  on  it,  how- 
ever ;  and  not  far  away,  hidden  in  a  pretty  clump 
of  trees  and  bushes,  was  a  fine  spring  of  water, 
because  of  which  the  place  was  known  as  Rock 
Spring  Farm.  In  the  cabin  on  this  farm  the 
future  President  of  the  United  States  was  born 
on  February  12,  1809,  and  here  the  first  four 
years  of  his  life  were  spent.  Then  the  Lincolns 
moved  to  a  much  bigger  and  better  farm  on 
Knob  Creek,  six  miles  from  Hodgensville,  which 
Thomas  Lincoln  bought,  again  on  credit,  sell- 
ing the  larger  part  of  it  soon  afterward  to  an- 
other purchaser.  Here  they  remained  until 
Abraham  was  seven  years  old. 

About  this  early  part  of  his  childhood  almost 
nothing  is  known.  He  never  talked  of  these 
days,  even  to  his  most  intimate  friends.  To  the 
pioneer  child  a  farm  offered  much  that  a  town 
lot  could  not  give  him — space;  woods  to  roam 
in;  Knob  Creek  with  its  running  water  and  its 
deep,  quiet  pools  for  a  playfellow;  berries  to  be 
hunted  for  in  summer  and  nuts  in  autumn ;  while 
all  the  year  round  birds  and  small  animals  pat- 
tered across  his  path  to  people  the  solitude  in 
place  of  human  companions.  The  boy  had  few 
comrades.  He  wandered  about  playing  his  lone- 
some little  games,  and  when  these  were  finished 
returned  to  the  small  and  cheerless  cabin.    Once, 


io  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

when  asked  what  he  remembered  about  the  War 
of  1812  with  Great  Britain,  he  replied:  "Only 
this :  I  had  been  fishing  one  day  and  had  caught 
a  little  fish,  which  I  was  taking  home.  I  met 
a  soldier  in  the  road,  and  having  always  been 
told  at  home  that  we  must  be  good  to  soldiers, 
I  gave  him  my  fish."  It  is  only  a  glimpse  into 
his  life,  but  it  shows  the  solitary,  generous  child 
and  the  patriotic  household. 

It  was  while  living  on  this  farm  that  Abra- 
ham and  his  sister  Sarah  first  began  going  to 
A-B-C  schools.  Their  earliest  teacher  was 
Zachariah  Riney,  who  taught  near  the  Lincoln 
cabin;  the  next  was  Caleb  Hazel,  four  miles 
away. 

In  spite  of  the  tragedy  that  darkened  his  child- 
hood, Thomas  Lincoln  seems  to  have  been  a 
cheery,  indolent,  good-natured  man.  By  means 
of  a  little  farming  and  occasional  jobs  at  his 
trade,  he  managed  to  supply  his  family  with  the 
absolutely  necessary  food  and  shelter,  but  he 
never  got  on  in  the  world.  He  found  it  much 
easier  to  gossip  with  his  friends,  or  to  dream 
about  rich  new  lands  in  the  West,  than  to  make 
a  thrifty  living  in  the  place  where  he  happened 
to  be.  The  blood  of  the  pioneer  was  in  his  veins 
too — the  desire  to  move  westward;  and  hearing 
glowing  accounts  of  the  new  territory  of  In- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  n 

diana,  he  resolved  to  go  and  see  it  for  himself. 
His  skill  as  a  carpenter  made  this  not  only  pos- 
sible but  reasonably  cheap,  and  in  the  fall  of  1816 
he  built  himself  a  little  flatboat,  launched  it  half 
a  mile  from  his  cabin,  at  the  mouth  of  Knob 
Creek  on  the  waters  of  the  Rolling  Fork,  and 
floated  on  it  down  that  stream  to  Salt  River, 
down  Salt  River  to  the  Ohio,  and  down  the  Ohio 
to  a  landing  called  Thompson's  Ferry  on  the  In- 
diana shore. 

Sixteen  miles  out  from  the  river,  near  a  small 
stream  known  as  Pigeon  Creek,  he  found  a  spot 
in  the  forest  that  suited  him;  and  as  his  boat 
could  not  be  made  to  float  up-stream,  he  sold  it, 
stored  his  goods  with  an  obliging  settler,  and 
trudged  back  to  Kentucky,  all  the  way  on  foot, 
to  fetch  his  wife  and  children — Sarah,  who  was 
now  nine  years  old,  and  Abraham,  seven.  This 
time  the  journey  to  Indiana  was  made  with  two 
horses,  used  by  the  mother  and  children  for  rid- 
ing, and  to  carry  their  little  camping  outfit  for 
the  night.  The  distance  from  their  old  home 
was,  in  a  straight  line,  little  more  than  fifty 
miles,  but  they  had  to  go  double  that  distance 
because  of  the  very  few  roads  it  was  possible 
to  follow. 

Reaching  the  Ohio  River  and  crossing  to  the 
Indiana  shore,  Thomas  Lincoln  hired  a  wagon 


12 


THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 


VIEW  OF  THOMAS  LINCOLN  S  FARM,  WHERE 

ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  WAS  BORN. 

The  house  stood  back  of  the  distant  group  of 

trees  to  the  right  of  the  picture.     The  rock 

spring  was  at  the  end  of  the  path 

under  the  group  of  trees  at 

the  left. 


which  carried  his  family  and  their  belongings 
the  remaining  sixteen  miles  through  the  forest 
to  the  spot  he  had  chosen — a  piece  of  heavily 
wooded  land,  one  and  a  half  miles  east  of  what 
has  since  become  the  village  of  Gentryville  in 
Spencer  County.  The  lateness  of  the  autumn 
made  it  necessary  to  put  up  a  shelter  as  quickly 
as  possible,  and  he  built  what  was  known  on 
the  frontier  as  a  half-faced  camp,  about  fourteen 
feet  square.  This  differed  from  a  cabin  in  that 
it  was  closed  on  only  three  sides,  being  quite 
open  to  the  weather  on  the  fourth.  A  fire  was 
usually  made  in  front  of  the  open  side,  and 
thus   the  necessity  for  having  a  chimney  was 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  13 

done  away  with.  Thomas  Lincoln  doubtless 
intended  this  only  for  a  temporary  shelter,  and 
as  such  it  would  have  done  well  enough  in 
pleasant  summer  weather;  but  it  was  a  rude 
provision  against  the  storms  and  winds  of  an 
Indiana  winter.  It  shows  his  want  of  energy 
that  the  family  remained  housed  in  this  poor 
camp  for  nearly  a  whole  year;  but,  after  all,  he 
must  not  be  too  hastily  blamed.  He  was  far 
from  idle.  A  cabin  was  doubtless  begun,  and 
there  was  the  very  heavy  work  of  clearing 
away  the  timber — cutting  down  large  trees, 
chopping  them  into  suitable  lengths,  and  rolling 
them  together  into  great  heaps  to  be  burned,  or 
of  splitting  them  into  rails  to  fence  the  small 
field  upon  which  he  managed  to  raise  a  patch 
of  corn  and  other  things  during  the  following 
summer. 

Though  only  seven  years  old,  Abraham  was 
unusually  large  and  strong  for  his  age,  and  he 
helped  his  father  in  all  this  heavy  labor  of 
clearing  the  farm.  In  after  years,  Mr.  Lin- 
coln said  that  an  ax  "was  put  into  his  hands 
at  once,  and  from  that  till  within  his  twenty- 
third  year  he  was  almost  constantly  handling 
that  most  useful  instrument — less,  of  course,  in 
ploughing  and  harvesting  seasons."  At  first 
the  Lincolns  and  their  seven  or  eight  neighbors 


14  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

lived  in  the  unbroken  forest.  They  had  only 
the  tools  and  household  goods  they  brought 
with  them,,  or  such  things  as  they  could  fashion 
with  their  own  hands.  There  was  no  sawmill 
to  saw  lumber.  The  village  of  Gentryville  was 
not  even  begun.  Breadstuff  could  be  had  only 
by  sending  young  Abraham  seven  miles  on 
horseback  with  a  bag  of  corn  to  be  ground  in 
a  hand  grist-mill. 

About  the  time  the  new  cabin  was  ready  rela- 
tives and  friends  followed  from  Kentucky,  and 
some  of  these  in  turn  occupied  the  half-faced 
camp.  During  the  autumn  a  severe  and  mys- 
terious sickness  broke  out  in  their  little  settle- 
ment, and  a  number  of  people  died,  among 
them  the  mother  of  young  Abraham.  There 
was  no  help  to  be  had  beyond  what  the  neigh- 
bors could  give  each  other.  The  nearest  doc- 
tor lived  fully  thirty  miles  away.  There  was 
not  even  a  minister  to  conduct  the  funerals. 
Thomas  Lincoln  made  the  coffins  for  the  dead 
out  of  green  lumber  cut  from  the  forest  trees 
with  a  whip-saw,  and  they  were  laid  to  rest  in  a 
clearing  in  the  woods.  Months  afterward, 
largely  through  the  efforts  of  the  sorrowing 
boy,  a  preacher  who  chanced  to  come  that 
way  was  induced  to  hold  a  service  and  preach 
a  sermon  over  the  grave  of  Mrs.  Lincoln. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  15 

Her  death  was  indeed  a  serious  blow  to  her 
husband  and  children.  Abraham's  sister,  Sarah, 
was  only  eleven  years  old,  and  the  tasks  and 
cares  of  the  little  household  were  altogether  too 
heavy  for  her  years  and  experience.  Never- 
theless they  struggled  bravely  through  the  win- 
ter and  following  summer;  then  in  the  autumn 
of  1819  Thomas  Lincoln  went  back  to  Ken- 
tucky and  married  Sarah  Bush  Johnston,  whom 
he  had  known,  and  it  is  said  courted,  when 
she  was  only  Sally  Bush.  She  had  married 
about  the  time  Lincoln  married  Nancy  Hanks, 
and  her  husband  had  died,  leaving  her  with 
three  children.  She  came  of  a  better  station  in 
life  than  Thomas,  and  was  a  woman  with  an 
excellent  mind  as  well  as  a  warm  and  generous 
heart.  The  household  goods  that  she  brought 
with  her  to  the  Lincoln  home  filled  a  four-horse 
wagon,  and  not  only  were  her  own  children 
well  clothed  and  cared  for,  but  she  was  able  at 
once  to  provide  little  Abraham  and  Sarah  with 
comforts  to  which  they  had  been  strangers 
during  the  whole  of  their  young  lives.  Under 
her  wise  management  all  jealousy  was  avoided 
between  the  two  sets  of  children;  urged  on  by 
her  stirring  example,  Thomas  Lincoln  supplied 
the  yet  unfinished  cabin  with  floor,  door,  and 
windows,  and  life  became  more  comfortable  for 


1 6  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

all  its  inmates,  contentment  if  not  happiness 
reigning  in  the  little  home. 

The  new  stepmother  quickly  became  very 
fond  of  Abraham,  and  encouraged  him  in  every 
way  in  her  power  to  study  and  improve  him- 
self. The  chances  for  this  were  few  enough. 
Mr.  Lincoln  has  left  us  a  vivid  picture  of  the 
situation.  "It  was,"  he  once  wrote,  "a  wild 
region,  with  many  bears  and  other  wild  ani- 
mals still  in  the  woods.  There  I  grew  up. 
There  were  some  schools,  so-called,  but  no 
qualification  was  ever  required  of  a  teacher  be- 
yond 'readin',  writin',  and  cipherin' '  to  the  Rule 
of  Three.  If  a  straggler  supposed  to  under- 
stand Latin  happened  to  sojourn  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, he  was  looked  upon  as  a  wizard." 

The  school-house  was  a  low  cabin  of  round 
logs,  with  split  logs  or  "puncheons"  for  a 
floor,  split  logs  roughly  leveled  with  an  ax  and 
set  up  on  legs  for  benches,  and  holes  cut  out  in 
the  logs  and  the  space  filled  in  with  squares  of 
greased  paper  for  window-panes.  The  main 
light  came  in  through  the  open  door.  Very 
often  Webster's  "Elementary  Spelling-book" 
was  the  only  text-book.  This  was  the  kind  of 
school  most  common  in  the  middle  West  during 
Mr.  Lincoln's  boyhood,  though  already  in  some 
places  there  were  schools  of  a  more  pretentious 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  17 

character.  Indeed,  back  in  Kentucky,  at  the 
very  time  that  Abraham,  a  child  of  six,  was 
learning  his  letters  from  Zachariah  Riney,  a 
boy  only  a  year  older  was  attending  a  Catholic 
seminary  in  the  very  next  county.  It  is 
doubtful  if  they  ever  met,  but  the  destinies  of 
the  two  were  strangely  interwoven,  for  the  older 
boy  was  Jefferson  Davis,  who  became  head  of 
the  Confederate  government  shortly  after  Lin- 
coln was  elected  President  of  the  United  States. 
As  Abraham  had  been  only  seven  years  old 
when  he  left  Kentucky,  the  little  beginnings  he 
learned  in  the  schools  kept  by  Riney  and  Hazel 
in  that  State  must  have  been  very  slight,  prob- 
ably only  his  alphabet,  or  at  most  only  three  or 
four  pages  of  Webster's  "Elementary  Spelling- 
book."  The  multiplication-table  was  still  a 
mystery  to  him,  and  he  could  read  or  write 
only  the  words  he  spelled.  His  first  two  years 
in  Indiana  seem  to  have  passed  without  school- 
ing of  any  sort,  and  the  school  he  attended 
shortly  after  coming  under  the  care  of  his  step- 
mother was  of  the  simplest  kind,  for  the  Pigeon 
Creek  settlement  numbered  only  eight  or  ten 
poor  families,  and  they  lived  deep  in  the  forest, 
where,  even  if  they  had  had  the  money  for  such 
luxuries,  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  buy 
books,  slates,  pens,  ink,  or  paper.     It  is  worthy 


i8 


THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 


of  note,  however,  that  in  our  western  country, 
even  under  such  difficulties,  a  school-house  was 


.  &/syv\&y+**%. Sps**y  4cj>6  ■w&~>  4***-es  J 2-  VfJc- 


mwn. 


V^  •  -■*•  -n         fyt>-  -n  -  ■■to. 
~j6>  •  r.l-~-^o 


tin  ^ 


Abrham  Li«a/n  HisPooir 


LEAF,    REDUCED    IN   SIZE,    FROM   ABRAHAM    LINCOLN  S    EXERCISE- 
BOOK,    WRITTEN    ABOUT   HIS   SEVENTEENTH   YEAR.       PRE- 
SENTED BY  WILLIAM  H.   HERNDON,  ESQ.,  TO  KEYES 
LINCOLN    MEMORIAL  COLLECTION. 

one  of  the  first  buildings  to  rise  in  every  fron- 
tier settlement.  Abraham's  second  school  in 
Indiana  was  held  when  he  was  fourteen  years 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  19 

old,  and  the  third  in  his  seventeenth  year. 
By  that  time  he  had  more  books  and  better 
teachers,  but  he  had  to  walk  four  or  five  miles 
to  reach  them.  We  know  that  he  learned  to 
write,  and  was  provided  with  pen,  ink,  and  a 
copy-book,  and  a  very  small  supply  of  writing-pa- 
per, for  copies  have  been  printed  of  several 
scraps  on  which  he  carefully  wrote  down  tables 
of  long-  measure,  land  measure,  and  dry  measure, 
as  well  as  examples  in  multiplication  and  com- 
pound division,  from  his  arithmetic.  He  was 
never  able  to  go  to  school  again  after  this  time, 
and  though  the  instruction  he  received  from 
his  five  teachers — two  in  Kentucky  and  three 
in  Indiana — extended  over  a  period  of  nine 
years,  it  must  be  remembered  that  it  made  up 
in  all  less  than  one  twelvemonth;  "that  the 
aggregate  of  all  his  schooling  did  not  amount 
to  one  year.''  The  fact  that  he  received  this 
instruction,  as  he  himself  said,  "by  littles,"  was 
doubtless  an  advantage.  A  lazy  or  indifferent 
boy  would  of  course  have  forgotten  what  was 
taught  him  at  one  time  before  he  had  oppor- 
tunity at  another;  but  Abraham  was  neither 
indifferent  nor  lazy,  and  these  widely  separated 
fragments  of  instruction  were  precious  steps  to 
self-help.  He  pursued  his  studies  with  very 
unusual  purpose  and  determination  not  only  to 


20  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

understand  them  at  the  moment,  but  to  fix 
them  firmly  in  his  mind.  His  early  companions 
all  agree  that  he  employed  every  spare  moment 
in  keeping-  on  with  some  one  of  his  studies. 
His  stepmother  tells  us  that  ''When  he  came 
across  a  passage  that  struck  him,  he  would 
write  it  down  on  boards  if  he  had  no  paper, 
and  keep  it  there  until  he  did  get  paper.  Then 
he  would  rewrite  it,  look  at  it,  repeat  it.  He 
had  a  copy-book,  a  kind  of  scrap-book,  in  which 
he  put  down  all  things,  and  thus  preserved 
them."  He  spent  long  evenings  doing  sums  on 
the  fire-shovel.  Iron  fire-shovels  were  a  rarity 
among  pioneers.  Instead  they  used  a  broad, 
thin  clapboard  with  one  end  narrowed  to  a 
handle,  arranging  with  this  the  piles  of  coals 
upon  the  hearth,  over  which  they  set  their 
"skillet"  and  "oven"  to  do  their  cooking.  It 
was  on  such  a  wooden  shovel  that  Abraham 
worked  his  sums  by  the  flickering  firelight,  mak- 
ing his  figures  with  a  piece  of  charcoal,  and, 
when  the  shovel  was  all  covered,  taking  a  draw- 
ing-knife and  shaving  it  off  clean  again. 

The  hours  that  he  was  able  to  devote  to  his 
penmanship,  his  reading,  and  his  arithmetic 
were  by  no  means  many;  for,  save  for  the  short 
time  that  he  was  actually  in  school,  he  was, 
during  all  these  years,  laboring  hard  on  his  fa- 


HE    BORROWED    EVERY    BOOK    IN    THE    NEIGHBORHOOD. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  23 

ther's  farm,  or  hiring  his  youthful  strength  to 
neighbors  who  had  need  of  help  in  the  work  of 
field  or  forest.  In  pursuit  of  his  knowledge  he 
was  on  an  up-hill  path;  yet  in  spite  of  all  ob- 
stacles he  worked  his  way  to  so  much  of  an  edu- 
cation as  placed  him  far  ahead  of  his  schoolmates 
and  quickly  abreast  of  his  various  teachers.  He 
borrowed  every  book  in  the  neighborhood. 
The  list  is  a  short  one:  "Robinson  Crusoe," 
"^Esop's  Fables,"  Bunyan's  "Pilgrim's  Pro- 
gress," Weems's  "Life  of  Washington,"  and  a 
"History  of  the  United  States."  When  every- 
thing else  had  been  read,  he  resolutely  began 
on  the  "Revised  Statutes  of  Indiana,"  which 
Dave  Turnham,  the  constable,  had  in  daily  use, 
but  permitted  him  to  come  to  his  house  and  read. 

Though  so  fond  of  his  books,  it  must  not  be 
supposed  that  he  cared  only  for  work  and  se- 
rious study.  He  was  a  social,  sunny-tempered 
lad,  as  fond  of  jokes  and  fun  as  he  was  kindly 
and  industrious.  His  stepmother  said  of  him: 
"I  can  say,  what  scarcely  one  mother  in  a 
thousand  can  say,  Abe  never  gave  me  a  cross 
word  or  look,  and  never  refused  .  .  .  to  do 
anything  I  asked  him.  ...  I  must  say  .  .  . 
that  Abe  was  the  best  boy  I  ever  saw  or  expect 
to  see." 

He  and  John  Johnston,  his  stepmother's  son, 


24  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

and  John  Hanks,  a  relative  of  his  own  mother's, 
worked  barefoot  together  in  the  fields,  grubbing-, 
plowing,  hoeing,  gathering  and  shucking  corn, 
and  taking  part,  when  occasion  offered,  in  the 
practical  jokes  and  athletic  exercises  that  en- 
livened the  hard  work  of  the  pioneers.  For  both 
work  and  play  Abraham  had  one  great  advan- 
tage. He  was  not  only  a  tall,  strong  country 
boy:  he  soon  grew  to  be  a  tall,  strong,  sinewy 
man.  He  early  reached  the  unusual  height  of 
six  feet  four  inches,  and  his  long  arms  gave  him 
a  degree  of  power  as  an  axman  that  few  were 
able  to  rival.  He  therefore  usually  led  his 
fellows  in  efforts  of  muscle  as  well  as  of  mind. 
That  he  could  outrun,  outlift,  outwrestle  his 
boyish  companions,  that  he  could  chop  faster, 
split  more  rails  in  a  day,  carry  a  heavier  log  at  a 
"raising,"  or  excel  the  neighborhood  champion 
in  any  feat  of  frontier  athletics,  was  doubtless 
a  matter  of  pride  with  him;  but  stronger  than 
all  else  was  his  eager  craving  for  knowledge. 
He  felt  instinctively  that  the  power  of  using  the 
mind  rather  than  the  muscles  was  the  key  to 
success.  He  wished  not  only  to  wrestle  with  the 
best  of  them,  but  to  be  able  to  talk  like  the 
preacher,  spell  and  cipher  like  the  school-master, 
argue  like  the  lawyer,  and  write  like  the  editor. 
Yet  he  was  as  far  as  possible  from  being  a  prig. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  25 

He  was  helpful,  sympathetic,  cheerful.  In  all 
the  neighborhood  gatherings,  when  settlers  of 
various  ages  came  together  at  corn-huskings  or 
house-raisings,  or  when  mere  chance  brought 
half  a  dozen  of  them  at  the  same  time  to  the 
post-office  or  the  country  store,  he  was  able,  ac- 
cording to  his  years,  to  add  his  full  share  to  the 
gaiety  of  the  company.  By  reason  of  his  read- 
ing and  his  excellent  memory,  he  soon  became 
the  best  story-teller  among  his  companions ;  and 
even  the  slight  training  gained  from  his  studies 
greatly  broadened  and  strengthened  the  strong 
reasoning  faculty  with  which  he  had  been  gifted 
by  nature.  His  wit  might  be  mischievous,  but 
it  was  never  malicious,  and  his  nonsense  was 
never  intended  to  wound  or  to  hurt  the  feel- 
ings. It  is  told  of  him  that  he  added  to  his  fund 
of  jokes  and  stories  humorous  imitations  of  the 
sermons  of  eccentric  preachers. 

Very  likely  too  much  is  made  of  all  these  boy- 
ish pranks.  He  grew  up  very  like  his  fellows. 
In  only  one  particular  did  he  differ  greatly  from 
the  frontier  boys  around  him.  He  never  took 
any  pleasure  in  hunting.  Almost  every  youth 
of  the  backwoods  early  became  an  excellent  shot 
and  a  confirmed  sportsman.  The  woods  still 
swarmed  with  game,  and  every  cabin  depended 
largely  upon  this  for  its  supply  of  food.     But 


26  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

to  his  strength  was  added  a  gentleness  which 
made  him  shrink  from  killing  or  inflicting  pain, 
and  the  time  the  other  boys  gave  to  lying  in  am- 
bush, he  preferred  to  spend  in  reading  or  in  ef- 
forts at  improving  his  mind. 

Only  twice  during  his  life  in  Indiana  was  the 
routine  of  his  employment  changed.  When  he 
was  about  sixteen  years  old  he  worked  for  a 
time  for  a  man  who  lived  at  the  mouth  of  An- 
derson's Creek,  and  here  part  of  his  duty  was 
to  manage  a  ferry-boat  which  carried  passen- 
gers across  the  Ohio  River.  It  was  very  likely 
this  experience  which,  three  years  later,  brought 
him  another.  Mr.  Gentry,  the  chief  man  of 
the  village  of  Gentryville  that  had  grown  up  a 
mile  or  so  from  his  father's  cabin,  loaded  a  flat- 
boat  on  the  Ohio  River  with  the  produce  his 
store  had  collected — corn,  flour,  pork,  bacon, 
and  other  miscellaneous  provisions — and  put- 
ting it  in  charge  of  his  son  Allen  Gentry  and  of 
Abraham  Lincoln,  sent  them  with  it  down  the 
Ohio  and  Mississippi  Rivers,  to  sell  its  cargo  at 
the  plantations  of  the  lower  Mississippi,  where 
sugar  and  cotton  were  the  principal  crops,  and 
where  other  food  supplies  were  needed  to  feed 
the  slaves.  No  better  proof  is  needed  of  the 
reputation  for  strength,  skill,  honesty,  and  intel- 
ligence that  this  tall  country  boy  had  already 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  27 

won  for  himself,  than  that  he  was  chosen  to 
navigate  the  flatboat  a  thousand  miles  to  the 
"sugar-coast"  of  the  Mississippi  River,  sell  its 
load,  and  bring  back  the  money.  Allen  Gentry 
was  supposed  to  be  in  command,  but  from  the 
record  of  his  after  life  we  may  be  sure  that 
Abraham  did  his  full  share  both  of  work  and 
management.  The  elder  Gentry  paid  Lincoln 
eight  dollars  a  month  and  his  passage  home  on 
a  steamboat  for  this  service.  The  voyage  was 
made  successfully,  although  not  without  adven- 
ture; for  one  night,  after  the  boat  was  tied  up 
to  the  shore,  the  boys  were  attacked  by  seven 
negroes,  who  came  aboard  intending  to  kill  and 
rob  them.  There  was  a  lively  scrimmage,  in 
which,  though  slightly  hurt,  they  managed  to 
beat  off  their  assailants,  and  then,  hastily  cut- 
ting their  boat  adrift,  swung  out  on  the  stream. 
The  marauding  band  little  dreamed  that  they 
were  attacking  the  man  who  in  after  years  was 
to  give  their  race  its  freedom;  and  though  the 
future  was  equally  hidden  from  Abraham,  it  is 
hard  to  estimate  the  vistas  of  hope  and  ambi- 
tion that  this  long  journey  opened  to  him.  It 
was  his  first  look  into  the  wide,  wide  world. 


II 

CAPTAIN  LINCOLN. 

BY  this  time  the  Lincoln  homestead  was  no 
longer  on  the  frontier.  During  the  years 
that  passed  while  Abraham  was  growing  from 
a  child,  scarcely  able  to  wield  the  ax  placed  in 
his  hands,  into  a  tall,  capable  youth,  the  line  of 
frontier  settlements  had  been  gradually  but 
steadily  pushing  on  beyond  Gentryville  toward 
the  Mississippi  River.  Every  summer  canvas- 
covered  moving  wagons  wound  their  slow  way 
over  new  roads  into  still  newer  country;  while 
the  older  settlers,  left  behind,  watched  their 
progress  with  longing  eyes.  It  was  almost  as 
if  a  spell  had  been  cast  over  these  toil-worn 
pioneers,  making  them  forget,  at  sight  of  such 
new  ventures,  all  the  hardships  they  had  them- 
selves endured  in  subduing  the  wilderness. 

At  last,  on  March  i,  1830,  when  Abraham 
was  just  twenty-one  years  old,  the  Lincolns, 
yielding  to  this  overmastering  frontier  impulse 
to  "move"  westward,  left  the  old  farm  in  In- 

28 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  29 

diana  to  make  a  new  home  in  Illinois.  "Their 
mode  of  conveyance  was  wagons  drawn  by 
ox-teams,"  Mr.  Lincoln  wrote  in  i860;  "and 
Abraham  drove  one  of  the  teams."  They  set- 
tled in  Macon  County  on  the  north  side  of  the 
Sangamon  River,  about  ten  miles  west  of  De- 
catur, where  they  built  a  cabin,  made  enough 
rails  to  fence  ten  acres  of  ground,  fenced  and 
cultivated  the  ground,  and  raised  a  crop  of  corn 
upon  it  that  first  season.  It  was  the  same 
heavy  labor  over  again  that  they  had  endured 
when  they  went  from  Kentucky  to  Indiana; 
but  this  time  the  strength  and  energy  of  young 
Abraham  were  at  hand  to  inspire  and  aid  his 
father,  and  there  was  no  miserable  shivering 
year  of  waiting  in  a  half-faced  camp  before  the 
family  could  be  suitably  housed.  They  were 
not  to  escape  hardship,  however.  They  fell 
victims  to  fever  and  ague,  which  they  had  not 
known  in  Indiana,  and  became  greatly  discour- 
aged; and  the  winter  after  their  arrival  proved 
one  of  intense  cold  and  suffering  for  the  pio- 
neers, being  known  in  the  history  of  the  State 
as  "the  winter  of  the  deep  snow."  The  severe 
weather  began  in  the  Christmas  holidays  with 
a  storm  of  such  fatal  suddenness  that  people 
who  were  out  of  doors  had  difficulty  in  reaching 
their  homes,  and  not  a  few  perished,  their  fate 


30  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

remaining  unknown  until  the  melting  snows  of 
early  spring  showed  where  they  had  fallen. 

In  March,  1831,  at  the  end  of  this  terrible 
winter,  Abraham  Lincoln  left  his  father's  cabin 
to  seek  his  own  fortune  in  the  world.  It  was 
the  frontier  custom  for  young  men  to  do  this 
when  they  reached  the  age  of  twenty-one. 
Abraham  was  now  twenty-two,  but  had  will- 
ingly remained  with  his  people  an  extra  year  to 
give  them  the  benefit  of  his  labor  and  strength 
in  making  the  new  home. 

He  had  become  acquainted  with  a  man 
named  OfTut,  a  trader  and  speculator,  who  pre- 
tended to  great  business  shrewdness,  but  whose 
chief  talent  lay  in  boasting  of  the  magnificent 
things  he  meant  to  do.  OfTut  engaged  Abra- 
ham, with  his  stepmother's  son,  John  D.  Johns- 
ton, and  John  Hanks,  to  take  a  flatboat  from 
Beardstown,  on  the  Illinois  River,  to  New  Or- 
leans; and  all  four  arranged  to  meet  at  Spring- 
field as  soon  as  the  snow  should  melt. 

In  March,  when  the  snow  finally  melted,  the 
country  was  flooded  and  traveling  by  land  was 
utterly  out  of  the  question.  The  boys,  there- 
fore, bought  a  large  canoe,  and  in  it  floated 
down  the  Sangamon  River  to  keep  their  ap- 
pointment with  OfTut.  It  was  in  this  somewhat 
unusual  way  that  Lincoln  made  his  first  entry 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  31 

into  the  town  whose  name  was  afterward  to  be 
linked  with  his  own. 

OfTut  was  waiting  for  them,  with  the  dis- 
couraging news  that  he  had  been  unable  to  get 
a  flatboat  at  Beardstown.  The  young  men 
promptly  offered  to  make  the  flatboat,  since  one 
was  not  to  be  bought ;  and  they  set  to  work,  fell- 
ing the  trees  for  it  on  the  banks  of  the  stream. 
Abraham's  father  had  been  a  carpenter,  so  the 
use  of  tools  was  no  mystery  to  him;  and  dur- 
ing his  trip  to  New  Orleans  with  Allen  Gentry 
he  had  learned  enough  about  flatboats  to  give 
him  confidence  in  this  task  of  shipbuilding. 
Neither  Johnston  nor  Hanks  was  gifted  with 
skill  or  industry,  and  it  is  clear  that  Lincoln 
was,  from  the  start,  leader  of  the  party,  master 
of  construction,  and  captain  of  the  craft. 

The  floods  went  down  rapidly  while  the  boat 
was  building,  and  when  they  tried  to  sail  their 
new  craft  it  stuck  midway  across  the  dam  of 
Rutledge's  mill  at  New  Salem,  a  village  of  fif- 
teen or  twenty  houses  not  many  miles  from 
their  starting-point.  With  its  bow  high  in  air, 
and  its  stern  under  water,  it  looked  like  some 
ungainly  fish  trying  to  fly,  or  some  bird  making 
an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  swim.  The  voyagers 
appeared  to  have  suffered  irreparable  shipwreck 
at  the  very  outset  of  their  venture,  and  men  and 


32  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

women  came  down  from  their  houses  to  offer 
advice  or  to  make  fun  of  the  young  boatmen 
as  they  waded  about  in  the  water,  with  trous- 
ers rolled  very  high,  seeking  a  way  out  of  their 
difficulty.  Lincoln's  self-control  and  good  hu- 
mor proved  equal  to  their  banter,  while  his  en- 
gineering skill  speedily  won  their  admiration. 
The  amusement  of  the  onlookers  changed  to 
gaping  wonder  when  they  saw  him  deliberately 
bore  a  hole  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat  near  the 
bow,  after  which,  fixing  up  some  kind  of  der- 
rick, he  tipped  the  boat  so  that  the  water  she 
had  taken  in  at  the  stern  ran  out  in  front,  and 
she  floated  safely  over  the  dam.  This  novel 
method  of  bailing  a  boat  by  boring  a  hole  in 
her  bottom  fully  established  his  fame  at  New 
Salem,  and  so  delighted  the  enthusiastic  Offut 
that,  on  the  spot,  he  engaged  its  inventor  to 
come  back  after  the  voyage  to  New  Orleans  and 
act  as  clerk  for  him  in  a  store. 

The  hole  plugged  up  again,  and  the  boat's 
cargo  reloaded,  they  made  the  remainder  of  the 
journey  in  safety.  Lincoln  returned  by  steamer 
from  New  Orleans  to  St.  Louis,  and  from  there 
made  his  way  to  New  Salern  on  foot.  He  ex- 
pected to  find  Offut  already  established  in  the 
new  store,  but  neither  he  nor  his  goods  had  ar- 
rived.    While   "loafing  about,"   as  the   citizens 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  33 

of  New  Salem  expressed  it,  waiting  for  him, 
the  newcomer  had  a  chance  to  exhibit  another 
of  his  accomplishments.  An  election  was  to  be 
held,  but  one  of  the  clerks,  being  taken  suddenly 
ill,  could  not  be  present.  Penmen  were  not 
plenty  in  the  little  town,  and  Mentor  Graham, 
the  other  election  clerk,  looking  around  in  per- 
plexity for  some  one  to  fill  the  vacant  place, 
asked  young  Lincoln  if  he  knew  how  to  write. 
Lincoln  answered,  in  the  lazy  speech  of  the 
country,  that  he  "could  make  a  few  rabbit 
tracks,"  and  that  being  deemed  quite  sufficient, 
was  immediately  sworn  in,  and  set  about  dis- 
charging the  duties  of  his  first  office.  The  way 
he  performed  these  not  only  gave  general  satis- 
faction, but  greatly  interested  Mentor  Graham, 
who  was  the  village  schoolmaster,  and  from  that 
time  on  proved  a  most  helpful  friend  to  him. 

Oflut  finally  arrived  with  a  miscellaneous  lot 
of  goods,  which  Lincoln  opened  and  put  in 
order,  and  the  storekeeping  began.  Trade  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  brisk,  for  Oflut  soon 
increased  his  venture  by  renting  the  Rutledge 
and  Cameron  mill,  on  whose  historic  dam  the 
flatboat  had  come  to  grief.  For  a  while  the 
care  of  this  mill  was  added  to  Lincoln's  other 
duties.  He  made  himself  generally  useful  be- 
sides, his  old  implement,  the  ax,  not  being  en- 


34  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

tirely  discarded.  We  are  told  that  he  cut  down 
trees  and  split  rails  enough  to  make  a  large  hog- 
pen adjoining  the  mill,  a  performance  not  at  all 
surprising  when  it  is  remembered  that  up  to  this 
time  the  greater  part  of  his  life  had  been  spent 
in  the  open  air,  and  that  his  still  growing  mus- 
cles must  have  eagerly  welcomed  tasks  like  this, 
which  gave  him  once  more  the  exercise  that 
measuring  calico  and  weighing  out  groceries 
failed  to  supply. 

Young  Lincoln's  bodily  vigor  stood  him  in 
good  stead  in  many  ways.  In  frontier  life 
strength  and  athletic  skill  served  as  well  for 
popular  amusement  as  for  prosaic  toil,  and  at 
times,  indeed,  they  were  needed  for  personal 
defence.  Every  community  had  its  champion 
wrestler,  a  man  of  considerable  local  impor- 
tance, in  whose  success  the  neighbors  took  a 
becoming  interest.  There  was,  not  far  from 
New  Salem,  a  settlement  called  Clary's  Grove, 
where  lived  a  set  of  restless,  rollicking  young 
backwoodsmen  with  a  strong  liking  for  frontier 
athletics  and  rough  practical  jokes.  Jack 
Armstrong  was  the  leader  of  these,  and  until 
Lincoln's  arrival  had  been  the  champion  wres- 
tler of  both  Clary's  Grove  and  New  Salem.  He 
and  his  friends  had  not  the  slightest  personal 
grudge  against  Lincoln;  but  hearing  the  neigh- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  35 

borhood  talk  about  the  newcomer,  and  espe- 
cially Oflut's  extravagant  praise  of  his  clerk, 
who,  according  to  Oflut's  statement,  knew  more 
than  any  one  else  in  the  United  States,  and 
could  beat  the  whole  county  at  running,  jump- 
ing or  "wrastling,"  they  decided  that  the  time 
had  come  to  assert  themselves,  and  strove  to 
bring  about  a  trial  of  strength  between  Arm- 
strong and  Lincoln.  Lincoln,  who  disapproved 
of  all  this  "woolling  and  pulling,"  as  he  called 
it,  and  had  no  desire  to  come  to  blows  with 
his  neighbors,  put  off  the  encounter  as  long 
as  possible.  At  length  even  his  good  temper 
was  powerless  to  avert  it,  and  the  wrestling- 
match  took  place.  Jack  Armstrong  soon  found 
that  he  had  tackled  a  man  as  strong  and  skil- 
ful as  himself;  and  his  friends,  seeing  him 
likely  to  get  the  worst  of  it,  swarmed  to  his 
assistance,  almost  succeeding,  by  tripping  and 
kicking,  in  getting  Lincoln  down.  At  the  un- 
fairness of  this  Lincoln  became  suddenly  and 
furiously  angry,  put  forth  his  entire  strength, 
lifted  the  pride  of  Clary's  Grove  in  his  arms 
like  a  child,  and  holding  him  high  in  the  air,  al- 
most choked  the  life  out  of  him.  It  seemed  for 
a  moment  as  though  a  general  fight  must  fol- 
low; but  even  while  Lincoln's  fierce  rage  com- 
pelled their  respect,  his  quickly  returning  self- 


36  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

control  won  their  admiration,  and  the  crisis  was 
safely  passed.  Instead  of  becoming  enemies  and 
leaders  in  a  neighborhood  feud,  as  might  have 
been  expected,  the  two  grew  to  be  warm  friends, 
the  affection  thus  strangely  begun  lasting 
through  life.  They  proved  useful  to  each  other 
in  various  ways,  and  years  afterward  Lincoln 
made  ample  amends  for  his  rough  treatment  of 
the  other's  throat  by  saving  the  neck  of  Jack 
Armstrong's  son  from  the  halter  in  a  memor- 
able trial  for  murder.  The  Clary's  Grove 
"boys"  voted  Lincoln  "the  cleverest  fellow  that 
had  ever  broke  into  the  settlement,"  and  there- 
after took  as  much  pride  in  his  peaceableness 
and  book-learning  as  they  did  in  the  rougher 
and  more  questionable  accomplishments  of  their 
discomfited  leader. 

Lincoln  himself  was  not  so  easily  satisfied. 
His  mind  as  well  as  his  muscles  hungered  for 
work,  and  he  confided  to  Mentor  Graham,  pos- 
sibly with  some  diffidence,  his  "notion  to  study 
English  grammar."  Instead  of  laughing  at 
him,  Graham  heartily  encouraged  the  idea, 
saying  it  was  the  very  best  thing  he  could  do. 
With  quickened  zeal  Lincoln  announced  that  if 
he  had  a  grammar  he  would  begin  at  once;  but 
at  this  the  schoolmaster  was  obliged  to  confess 
that  he  knew  of  no  such  book  in  New  Salem. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  Z7 

He  thought,  however,  that  there  might  be  one 
at  Vaner's,  six  miles  away.  Promptly  after 
breakfast  the  next  morning  Lincoln  set  out  in 
search  of  it.  He  brought  the  precious  volume 
home  in  triumph,  and  with  Graham's  occa- 
sional help  found  no  difficulty  in  mastering 
its  contents.  Indeed,  it  is  very  likely  that  he 
was  astonished,  and  even  a  bit  disappointed,  to 
find  so  little  mystery  in  it.  He  is  reported  to 
have  said  that  if  this  was  a  "science,"  he 
thought  he  would  like  to  begin  on  another  one. 
In  the  eyes  of  the  townspeople,  however,  it  was 
no  small  achievement,  and  added  greatly  to 
his  reputation  as  a  scholar.  There  is  no  record 
of  any  other  study  commenced  at  this  time,  but 
it  is  certain  that  he  profited  much  by  helpful 
talks  with  Mentor  Graham,  and  that  he  bor- 
rowed every  book  the  schoolmaster's  scanty 
library  was  able  to  furnish. 

Though  outwardly  uneventful,  this  period  of 
his  life  was  both  happy  and  profitable.  He  was 
busy  at  useful  labor,  was  picking  up  scraps  of 
schooling,  was  making  friends  and  learning  to 
prize  them  at  their  true  worth;  was,  in  short, 
developing  rapidly  from  a  youth  into  a  young 
man.  Already  he  began  to  feel  stirrings  of  am- 
bition which  prompted  him  to  look  beyond  his 
own  daily  needs  toward  the  larger  interests  of 


38  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

his  county  and  his  State.  An  election  for  mem- 
bers of  the  Illinois  legislature  was  to  take  place 
in  August,  1832.  Sangamon  County  was  en- 
titled to  four  representatives.  Residents  of  the 
county  over  twenty-one  years  of  age  were  eligi- 
ble to  election,  and  audacious  as  it  might  ap- 
pear, Lincoln  determined  to  be  a  candidate. 

The  people  of  New  Salem,  like  those  of  all 
other  Western  towns,  took  a  keen  interest  in 
politics;  "politics"  meaning,  in  that  time  and 
place,  not  only  who  was  to  be  President  or  gov- 
ernor, but  concerning  itself  with  questions  which 
came  much  closer  home  to  dwellers  on  the  fron- 
tier. "Internal  improvements,"  as  they  were 
called — the  building  of  roads  and  clearing  out 
of  streams  so  that  men  and  women  who  lived 
in  remote  places  might  be  able  to  travel  back 
and  forth  and  carry  on  trade  with  the  rest  of 
the  world — became  a  burning  question  in  Illinois. 
There  was  great  need  of  such  improvements ;  and 
in  this  need  young  Lincoln  saw  his  opportunity. 

It  was  by  way  of  the  Sangamon  River  that 
he  entered  politics.  That  uncertain  water- 
course had  already  twice  befriended  him.  He 
had  floated  on  it  in  flood-time  from  his  father's 
cabin  into  Springfield.  A  few  weeks  later  its 
rapidly  falling  waters  landed  him  on  the  dam 
at  Rutledge's  mill,   introducing  him  effectively 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  39 

if  unceremoniously  to  the  inhabitants  of  New 
Salem.  Now  it  was  again  to  play  a  part  in  his 
life,  starting  him  on  a  political  career  that  ended 
only  in  the  White  House.  Surely  no  insignifi- 
cant stream  has  had  a  greater  influence  on  the 
history  of  a  famous  man.  It  was  a  winding 
and  sluggish  creek,  encumbered  with  driftwood 
and  choked  by  sand-bars;  but  it  flowed  through 
a  country  already  filled  with  ambitious  settlers, 
where  the  roads  were  atrociously  bad,  becoming 
in  rainy  seasons  wide  seas  of  pasty  black  mud, 
and  remaining  almost  impassable  for  weeks  at 
a  time.  After  a  devious  course  the  Sangamon 
found  its  way  into  the  Illinois  River,  and  that 
in  turn  flowed  into  the  Mississippi.  Most  of  the 
settlers  were  too  new  to  the  region  to  know 
what  a  shallow,  unprofitable  stream  the  Sanga- 
mon really  was,  for  the  deep  snows  of  1830 
31  and  of  the  following  winter  had  supplied  it 
with  an  unusual  volume  of  water.  It  was  nat- 
ural, therefore,  that  they  should  regard  it  as 
the  heaven-sent  solution  of  their  problem  of 
travel  and  traffic  with  the  outside  world.  If  it 
could  only  be  freed  from  driftwood,  and  its 
channel  straightened  a  little,  they  felt  sure  it 
might  be  used  for  small  steamboats  during  a 
large  part  of  the  year. 

The  candidates  for  the  legislature  that  sum- 


40  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

mer  staked  their  chances  of  success  on  the  zeal 
they  showed  for  "internal  improvements."  Lin- 
coln was  only  twenty-three.  He  had  been  in  the 
county  barely  nine  months.  Sangamon  County 
was  then  considerably  larger  than  the  whole 
State  of  Rhode  Island,  and  he  was  of  course 
familiar  with  only  a  small  part  of  it  or  its  people ; 
but  he  felt  that  he  did  know  the  river.  He  had 
sailed  on  it  and  been  shipwrecked  by  it;  he  had, 
moreover,  been  one  of  a  party  of  men  and  boys, 
armed  with  long-handled  axes,  who  went  out 
to  chop  away  obstructions  and  meet  a  small 
steamer  that,  a  few  weeks  earlier,  had  actually 
forced  its  way  up  from  the  Illinois  River. 

Following  the  usual  custom,  he  announced 
his  candidacy  in  the  local  newspaper  in  a  letter 
dated  March  9,  addressed  "To  the  People  of 
Sangamon  County."  It  was  a  straightforward, 
manly  statement  of  his  views  on  questions  of  the 
day,  written  in  as  good  English  as  that  used  by 
the  average  college-bred  man  of  his  years.  The 
larger  part  of  it  was  devoted  to  arguments  for 
the  improvement  of  the  Sangamon  River.  Its 
main  interest  for  us  lies  in  the  frank  avowal  of 
his  personal  ambition  that  is  contained  in  the 
closing  paragraph. 

"Every  man  is  said  to  have  his  peculiar  am- 
bition," he  wrote.     "Whether  it  be  true  or  not, 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  41 

I  can  say,  for  one,  that  I  have  no  other  so  great 
as  that  of  being  truly  esteemed  of  my  fellow- 
men  by  rendering  myself  worthy  of  their  esteem. 
How  far  I  shall  succeed  in  gratifying  this  ambi- 
tion is  yet  to  be  developed.  I  am  young,  and 
unknown  to  many  of  you.  I  was  born,  and  have 
ever  remained,  in  the  most  humble  walks  of  life. 
I  have  no  wealthy  or  popular  relations  or  friends 
to  recommend  me.  My  case  is  thrown  exclu- 
sively upon  the  independent  voters  of  the  county ; 
and  if  elected,  they  will  have  conferred  a  favor 
upon  me  for  which  I  shall  be  unremitting  in 
my  labors  to  compensate.  But  if  the  good  people 
in  their  wisdom  shall  see  fit  to  keep  me  in  the 
background,  I  have  been  too  familiar  with  dis- 
appointments to  be  very  much  chagrined." 

He  soon  had  an  opportunity  of  being  useful 
to  his  fellow-men,  though  in  a  way  very  differ- 
ent from  the  one  he  was  seeking.  About  four 
weeks  after  he  had  published  his  letter  "To  the 
People  of  Sangamon  County,"  news  came  that 
Black  Hawk,  the  veteran  war-chief  of  the  Sac 
Indians,  was  heading  an  expedition  to  cross  the 
Mississippi  River  and  occupy  once  more  the 
lands  that  had  been  the  home  of  his  people. 
There  was  great  excitement  among  the  settlers 
in  Northern  Illinois,  and  the  governor  called  for 
six  hundred  volunteers  to  take  part  in  a  cam- 


42  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

paign  against  the  Indians.  He  met  a  quick  re- 
sponse; and  Lincoln,  unmindful  of  what  might 
become  of  his  campaign  for  the  legislature  if 
he  went  away,  was  among  the  first  to  enlist. 
When  his  company  met  on  the  village  green  to 
choose  their  officers,  three-quarters  of  the  men, 
to  Lincoln's  intense  surprise  and  pleasure, 
marched  over  to  the  spot  where  he  was  stand- 
ing and  grouped  themselves  around  him,  signi- 
fying in  this  way  their  wish  to  make  him  cap- 
tain. We  have  his  own  word  for  it  that  no 
success  of  his  after  life  gave  him  nearly  as  much 
satisfaction.  On  April  21,  two  days  after  the 
call  for  volunteers  had  been  printed,  the  com- 
pany was  organized.  A  week  later  it  was  mus- 
tered into  service,  becoming  part  of  the  Fourth 
Illinois  Mounted  Volunteers,  and  started  at  once 
for  the  hostile  frontier. 

Lincoln's  soldiering  lasted  about  three 
months.  He  was  in  no  battle,  but  there  was 
plenty  of  "roughing  it,"  and  occasionally  real 
hardship,  as  when  the  men  were  obliged  to  go 
for  three  days  without  food.  The  volunteers 
had  not  enlisted  for  any  definite  length  of  time, 
and  seeing  no  prospect  of  fighting,  they  soon 
became  clamorous  to  return  home.  Accord- 
ingly his  and  other  companies  were  mustered 
out  of  service  on  May  2*j,  at  the  mouth  of  Fox 


ON  THE   VILLAGE  GREEN. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  45 

River.  At  the  same  time  the  governor,  not 
wishing  to  weaken  his  forces  before  the  arrival 
of  other  soldiers  to  take  their  places,  called  for 
volunteers  to  remain  twenty  days  longer.  Lin- 
coln had  gone  to  the  frontier  to  do  real  service, 
not  for  the  glory  of  being  captain.  Accord- 
ingly, on  the  day  on  which  he  was  mustered  out 
as  an  officer  he  re-enlisted,  becoming  Private 
Lincoln  in  Captain  Iles's  company  of  mounted 
volunteers,  sometimes  known  as  the  Indepen- 
dent Spy  Battalion.  This  organization  appears 
to  have  been  very  independent  indeed,  not  under 
the  control  of  any  regiment  or  brigade,  but  re- 
ceiving orders  directly  from  the  commander-in- 
chief,  and  having  many  unusual  privileges,  such 
as  freedom  from  all  camp  duties,  and  permission 
to  draw  rations  as  much  and  as  often  as  they 
pleased.  After  laying  down  his  official  dignity 
and  joining  this  band  of  privileged  warriors, 
the  campaign  became  much  more  of  a  holiday 
for  the  tall  volunteer  from  New  Salem.  He  en- 
tered with  enthusiasm  into  all  the  games  and 
athletic  sports  with  which  the  soldiers  beguiled 
the  tedium  of  camp,  and  grew  in  popularity 
from  beginning  to  end  of  his  service.  When,  at 
length,  the  Independent  Spy  Battalion  was  mus- 
tered out  on  June  16,  1832,  he  started  on  the 
journey  home  with  a  merry  group  of  his  com- 


46  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

panions.  He  and  his  messmate,  George  M. 
Harrison,  had  the  misfortune  to  have  their 
horses  stolen  the  very  day  before,  but  Harrison's 
record  says: 

"I  laughed  at  our  fate,  and  he  joked  at  it, 
and  we  all  started  off  merrily.  The  generous 
men  of  our  company  walked  and  rode  by  turns 
with  us,  and  we  fared  about  equal  with  the 
rest.  But  for  this  generosity,  our  legs  would 
have  had  to  do  the  better  work,  for  in  that  day 
this  dreary  route  furnished  no  horses  to  buy  or 
to  steal,  and  whether  on  horse  or  afoot,  we  al- 
ways had  company,  for  many  of  the  horses' 
backs  were  too  sore  for  riding." 

Lincoln  reached  New  Salem  about  the  first 
of  August,  only  ten  days  before  the  election. 
He  had  lost  nothing  in  popular  esteem  by  his 
prompt  enlistment  to  defend  the  frontier,  and 
his  friends  had  been  doing  manful  service  for 
him;  but  there  were  by  this  time  thirteen  can- 
didates in  the  field,  with  a  consequent  division 
of  interest.  When  the  votes  were  counted, 
Lincoln  was  found  to  be  eighth  on  the  list — 
an  excellent  showing  when  we  remember  that 
he  was  a  newcomer  in  the  county,  and  that  he 
ran  as  a  Whig,  which  was  the  unpopular  party. 
In  his  own  home  town  of  New  Salem  only 
three  votes  had  been  cast  against  him.     Flat- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  47 

tering  as  all  this  was,  the  fact  remained  that  he 
was  defeated,  and  the  result  of  the  election 
brought  him  face  to  face  with  a  very  serious 
question.  He  was  without  means  and  without 
employment.  Offut  had  failed  and  had  gone 
away.  What  was  he  to  do  next?  He  thought 
of  putting  his  strong  muscles  to  account  by 
learning  the  blacksmith  trade;  thought  also  of 
trying  to  become  a  lawyer,  but  feared  he  could 
not  succeed  at  that  without  a  better  education. 
It  was  the  same  problem  that  has  confronted 
millions  of  young  Americans  before  and  since. 
In  his  case  there  was  no  question  which  he 
would  rather  be — the  only  question  was  what 
success  he  might  reasonably  hope  for  if  he  tried 
to  study  law. 

Before  his  mind  was  fully  made  up,  chance 
served  to  postpone,  and  in  the  end  greatly  to 
increase  his  difficulty.  Offut's  successors  in 
business,  two  brothers  named  Herndon,  had 
become  discouraged,  and  they  offered  to  sell  out 
to  Lincoln  and  an  acquaintance  of  his  named 
William  F.  Berry,  on  credit,  taking  their  prom- 
issory notes  in  payment.  Lincoln  and  Berry 
could  not  foresee  that  the  town  of  New  Salem 
had  already  lived  through  its  best  days,  and 
was  destined  to  dwindle  and  grow  smaller  until 
it  almost  disappeared  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 


48  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Unduly  hopeful,  they  accepted  the  offer,  and 
also  bought  out,  on  credit,  two  other  mer- 
chants who  were  anxious  to  sell.  It  is  clear 
that  the  flattering  vote  Lincoln  had  received  at 
the  recent  election,  and  the  confidence  New 
Salem  felt  in  his  personal  character,  alone  made 
these  transactions  possible,  since  not  a  dollar  of 
actual  money  changed  hands  during  all  this 
shifting  of  ownership.  In  the  long  run  the 
people's  faith  in  him  was  fully  justified;  but 
meantime  he  suffered  years  of  worry  and  har- 
assing debt.  Berry  proved  a  worthless  partner; 
the  business  a  sorry  failure.  Seeing  this,  Lin- 
coln and  Berry  sold  out,  again  on  credit,  to  the 
Trent  brothers,  who  soon  broke  up  the  store 
and  ran  away.  Berry  also  departed  and  died; 
and  in  the  end  all  the  notes  came  back  upon 
Lincoln  for  payment.  Of  course  he  had  not 
the  money  to  meet  these  obligations.  He  did 
the  next  best  thing:  he  promised  to  pay  as  soon 
as  he  could,  and  remaining  where  he  was, 
worked  hard  at  whatever  he  found  to  do.  Most 
of  his  creditors,  knowing  him  to  be  a  man  of 
his  word,  patiently  bided  their  time,  until,  in  the 
course  of  long  years,  he  paid,  with  interest, 
every  cent  of  what  he  used  to  call,  in  rueful  sat- 
ire upon  his  own  folly,  his  "National  Debt." 


Ill 


LAWYER   LINCOLN 

UNLUCKY  as  Lincoln's  attempt  at  store- 
keeping  had  been,  it  served  one  good  pur- 
pose. Indeed,  in  a  way  it  may  be  said  to  have 
determined  his  whole  future  career.  He  had  had 
a  hard  struggle  to  decide  between  becoming  a 
blacksmith  or  a  lawyer ;  and  when  chance  seemed 
to  offer  a  middle  course,  and  he  tried  to  be  a  mer- 
chant, the  wish  to  study  law  had  certainly  not 
faded  from  his  mind. 

There  is  a  story  that  while  cleaning  up  the 
store,  he  came  upon  a  barrel  which  contained, 
among  a  lot  of  forgotten  rubbish,  some  stray 
volumes  of  Blackstone's  "Commentaries,"  and 
that  this  lucky  find  still  further  quickened  his 
interest  in  the  law.  Whether  this  tale  be  true 
or  not  it  seems  certain  that  during  the  time  the 
store  was  running  its  downward  course  from 
bad  to  worse,  he  devoted  a  large  part  of  his  too 
abundant  leisure  to  reading  and  study  of  various 
kinds.    People  who  knew  him  then  have  told  how 

48 


50  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

he  would  lie  for  hours  under  a  great  oak-tree 
that  grew  just  outside  the  store  door,  poring  over 
his  book,  and  "grinding  around  with  the  shade" 
as  it  shifted  from  north  to  east. 

Lincoln's  habit  of  reading  was  still  further 
encouraged  by  his  being  appointed  postmaster 
of  New  Salem  on  May  7,  1833,  an  office  he  held 
for  about  three  years — until  New  Salem  grew 
too  small  to  have  a  post-office  of  its  own,  and  the 
mail  was  sent  to  a  neighboring  town.  The  office 
was  so  insignificant  that  according  to  popular 
fable  it  had  no  fixed  abiding-place,  Lincoln  being 
supposed  to  carry  it  about  with  him  in  his  hat! 
It  was,  however,  large  enough  to  bring  him  a 
certain  amount  of  consideration,  and,  what 
pleased  him  still  better,  plenty  of  newspapers  to 
read — newspapers  that  just  then  were  full  of 
the  exciting  debates  of  Clay  and  Webster,  and 
other  great  men  in  Congress. 

The  rate  of  postage  on  letters  was  still  twenty- 
five  cents,  and  small  as  the  earnings  of  the  office 
undoubtedly  were,  a  little  change  found  its  way 
now  and  then  into  his  hands.  In  the  scarcity  of 
money  on  the  frontier,  this  had  an  importance 
hard  for  us  to  realize.  A  portion  of  this  money, 
of  course,  belonged  to  the  government.  That 
he  used  only  what  was  rightfully  his  own  we 
could  be  very  sure,  even  if  a  sequel  to  this  post- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  51 

office  experience  were  not  known  which  shows 
his  scrupulous  honesty  where  government  funds 
were  concerned.  Years  later,  after  he  had  become 
a  practising  lawyer  in  Springfield,  an  agent  of 
the  Post-office  Department  called  upon  him  in 
his  office  one  day  to  collect  a  balance  due  from 
the  New  Salem  post-office,  amounting  to  about 
seventeen  dollars.  A  shade  of  perplexity  passed 
over  his  face,  and  a  friend,  sitting  by,  offered  to 
lend  him  the  money  if  he  did  not  at  the  moment 
have  it  with  him.  Without  answering,  Lincoln 
rose,  and  going  to  a  little  trunk  that  stood  by  the 
wall,  opened  it  and  took  out  the  exact  sum,  care- 
fully done  up  in  a  small  package.  "I  never  use 
any  man's  money  but  my  own,"  he  quietly 
remarked,  after  the  agent  had  gone. 

Soon  after  he  was  raised  to  the  dignity  of 
postmaster  another  piece  of  good  fortune  came 
in  his  way.  Sangamon  County  covered  a  terri- 
tory some  forty  miles  long  by  fifty  wide,  and 
almost  every  citizen  in  it  seemed  intent  on  buy- 
ing or  selling  land,  laying  out  new  roads,  or 
locating  some  future  city.  John  Calhoun,  the 
county  surveyor,  therefore,  found  himself  with 
far  more  work  than  he  could  personally  attend 
to,  and  had  to  appoint  deputies  to  assist  him. 
Learning  the  high  esteem  in  which  Lincoln  was 
held  by  the  people  of  New  Salem,  he  wisely  con- 


52  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

eluded  to  make  him  a  deputy,  although  they  dif- 
fered in  politics.  It  was  a  flattering  offer,  and 
Lincoln  accepted  gladly.  Of  course  he  knew 
almost  nothing  about  surveying,  but  he  got  a 
compass  and  chain,  and,  as  he  tells  us,  "studied 
Flint  and  Gibson  a  little,  and  went  at  it."  The 
surveyor,  who  was  a  man  of  talent  and  educa- 
tion, not  only  gave  Lincoln  the  appointment,  but, 
it  is  said,  lent  him  the  book  in  which  to  study  the 
art.  Lincoln  carried  the  book  to  his  friend  Men- 
tor Graham,  and  "went  at  it"  to  such  purpose 


LINCOLN'S   SURVEYING   INSTRUMENTS   AND   SADDLE-BAG 

that  in  six  weeks  he  was  ready  to  begin  the  prac- 
tice of  his  new  profession.  Like  Washington, 
who,  it  will  be  remembered,  followed  the  same 
calling  in  his  youth,  he  became  an  excellent  sur- 
veyor. 

Lincoln's  store  had  by  this  time  "winked  out/' 
to  use  his  own  quaint  phrase;  and  although  the 
surveying  and  his  post-office  supplied  his  daily 
needs,  they  left  absolutely  nothing  toward  pay- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  53 

ing  his  "National  Debt."  Some  of  his  creditors 
began  to  get  uneasy,  and  in  the  latter  part  of 
1834  a  man  named  Van  Bergen,  who  held  one  of 
the  Lincoln-Berry  notes,  refusing  to  trust  him 
any  longer,  had  his  horse,  saddle,  and  surveying- 
instruments  seized  by  the  sheriff  and  sold  at 
public  auction,  thus  sweeping  away  the  means 
by  which,  as  he  said,  he  "procured  bread  and 
kept  soul  and  body  together."  Even  in  this  strait 
his  known  honesty  proved  his  salvation.  Out 
of  pure  friendliness,  James  Short  bought  in  the 
property  and  gave  it  back  to  the  young  surveyor, 
allowing  him  time  to  repay. 

It  took  Lincoln  seventeen  years  to  get  rid  of 
his  troublesome  "National  Debt,"  the  last  instal- 
ment not  being  paid  until  after  his  return  from 
his  term  of  service  in  Congress  at  Washington; 
but  it  was  these  seventeen  years  of  industry, 
rigid  economy,  and  unflinching  fidelity  to  his 
promises  that  earned  for  him  the  title  of  "Hon- 
est Old  Abe,"  which  proved  of  such  inestimable 
value  to  himself  and  his  country. 

During  all  this  time  of  trial  and  disappoint- 
ment he  never  lost  his  courage,  his  steady,  per- 
severing industry,  or  his  determination  to  suc- 
ceed. He  was  not  too  proud  to  accept  any  honest 
employment  that  offered  itself.  He  would  go 
into  the  harvest-field  and  work  there  when  other 


54  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

tasks  were  not  pressing,  or  use  his  clerkly  hand 
to  straighten  up  a  neglected  ledger ;  and  his  lively- 
humor,  as  well  as  his  industry,  made  him  a  wel- 
come guest  at  any  farm-house  in  the  county. 
Whatever  he  might  be  doing,  he  was  never  too 
busy  to  help  a  neighbor.  His  strong  arm  was 
always  at  the  service  of  the  poor  and  needy. 

Two  years  after  his  defeat  for  the  legislature 
there  was  another  election.  His  friends  and 
acquaintances  in  the  county  had  increased,  and, 
since  he  had  received  such  a  flattering  vote  the 
first  time,  it  was  but  natural  that  he  should  wish 
to  try  again.  He  began  his  campaign  in  April, 
giving  himself  full  three  months  for  electioneer- 
ing. It  was  customary  in  those  days  for  candi- 
dates to  attend  all  manner  of  neighborhood 
gatherings — "raisings"  of  new  cabins,  horse- 
races, shooting-matches,  auctions — anything  that 
served  to  call  the  settlers  together;  and  it  was 
social  popularity,  quite  as  much  as  ability  to  dis- 
cuss political  questions,  that  carried  weight  with 
such  assemblies.  Lincoln,  it  is  needless  to  say, 
was  in  his  element.  He  might  be  called  upon  to 
act  as  judge  in  a  horse-race,  or  to  make  a  speech 
upon  the  Constitution!  He  could  do  both.  As 
a  laughing  peacemaker  between  two  quarrel- 
some patriots  he  had  no  equal ;  and  as  contestant 
in  an   impromptu  match  at  quoit-throwing,   or 


WMi-M 


HE    TOOK    HOLD    OF    THE    CRADLE  AND    LED    THE   WAY   ALL   THE    ROUND 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  57 

lifting  heavy  weights,  his  native  tact  and  strong- 
arm  served  him  equally  well.  Candidates  also 
visited  farms  and  outlying  settlements,  where 
they  were  sometimes  unexpectedly  called  upon  to 
show  their  mettle  and  muscle  in  more  useful 
labor.  One  farmer  has  recorded  how  Lincoln 
"came  to  my  house  near  Island  Grove  during 
harvest.  There  were  some  thirty  men  in  the 
field.  He  got  his  dinner,  and  went  out  in  the 
field  where  the  men  were  at  work.  I  gave  him 
an  introduction,  and  the  boys  said  that  they  could 
not  vote  for  a  man  unless  he  could  make  a  hand. 
'Well,  boys,5  said  he,  'if  that  is  all,  I  am  sure  of 
your  votes/  He  took  hold  of  the  cradle  and  led 
the  way  all  the  round  with  perfect  ease.  The 
boys  were  satisfied,  and  I  don't  think  he  lost 
a  vote  in  the  crowd." 

Sometimes  two  or  more  candidates  would 
meet  at  such  places,  and  short  speeches  would  be 
called  for  and  given,  the  harvesters  throwing 
down  their  scythes  meanwhile  to  listen,  and  enliv- 
ening the  occasion  with  keen  criticisms  of  the 
method  and  logic  of  the  rival  orators.  Alto- 
gether the  campaign  was  more  spirited  than  that 
of  two  years  before.  Again  there  were  thirteen 
candidates  for  the  four  places;  but  this  time, 
when  the  election  was  over,  it  was  found  that 
only  one  man  in  the  long  list  had  received  more 
votes  than  Abraham  Lincoln. 


58  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

Lincoln's  election  to  the  legislature  of  Illinois 
in  August,  1834,  marks  the  end  of  the  pioneer 
period  of  his  life.  He  was  done  now  with  the 
wild  carelessness  of  the  woods,  with  the  rough 
jollity  of  Clary's  Grove,  with  odd  jobs  for  his 
daily  bread — with  all  the  details  of  frontier  pov- 
erty. He  continued  for  years  to  be  a  very  poor 
man,  harassed  by  debts  he  was  constantly  labor- 
ing to  pay,  and  sometimes  absolutely  without 
money :  but  from  this  time  on  he  met  and  worked 
with  men  of  wider  knowledge  and  better-trained 
minds  than  those  he  had  known  in  Gentryville 
and  New  Salem,  while  the  simple  social  life  of 
Vandalia,  where  he  went  to  attend  the  sessions 
of  the  legislature,  was  more  elegant  than  any- 
thing he  had  yet  seen. 

It  must  be  frankly  admitted  that  his  success 
at  this  election  was  a  most  important  event  in 
his  life.  Another  failure  might  have  discour- 
aged even  his  hopeful  spirit,  and  sent  him  to  the 
blacksmith-shop  to  make  wagon-tires  and  shoe 
horses  for  the  balance  of  his  days.  With  this 
flattering  vote  to  his  credit,  however,  he  could  be 
very  sure  that  he  had  made  a  wise  choice  between 
the  forge  and  the  lawyer's  desk.  At  first  he  did 
not  come  into  special  notice  in  the  legislature. 
He  wore,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  a 
decent  suit  of  blue  jeans,  and  was  known  simply 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  59 

as  a  rather  quiet  young  man,  good-natured  and 
sensible.  Soon  people  began  to  realize  that  he 
was  a  man  to  be  reckoned  with  in  the  politics  of 
the  county  and  State.  He  was  reelected  in  1836, 
1838,  and  1840,  and  thus  for  eight  years  had  a 
full  share  in  shaping  the  public  laws  of  Illinois. 
The  Illinois  legislature  may  indeed  be  called  the 
school  wherein  he  learned  that  extraordinary 
skill  and  wisdom  in  statesmanship  which  he 
exhibited  in  later  years.  In  1838  and  1840  all 
the  Whig  members  of  the  Illinois  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives gave  him  their  vote  for  Speaker,  but, 
the  Democrats  being  in  a  majority,  could  not 
elect  him. 

His  campaign  expenses  were  small  enough  to 
suit  the  most  exacting.  It  is  recorded  that  at 
one  time  some  of  the  leading  Whigs  made  up  a 
purse  of  two  hundred  dollars  to  pay  his  personal 
expenses.  After  the  election  he  returned  the 
sum  of  $199.25,  with  the  request  that  it  be  given 
back  to  the  subscribers.  "I  did  not  need  the 
money,"  he  explained.  "I  made  the  canvass  on 
my  own  horse;  my  entertainment,  being  at  the 
houses  of  friends,  cost  me  nothing;  and  my 
only  outlay  was  seventy-five  cents  for  a  barrel 
of  cider,  which  some  farm-hands  insisted  I 
should  treat  them  to." 

One  act  of  his  while  a  member  of  the  legis- 


60  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

lature  requires  special  mention  because  of  the 
great  events  of  his  after-life.  Even  at  that  early 
date,  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  before  the 
beginning  of  the  Civil  War,  slavery  was  prov- 
ing a  cause  of  much  trouble  and  ill-will.  The 
"abolitionists,"  as  the  people  were  called  who 
wished  the  slaves  to  be  free,  and  the  "pro-slav- 
ery" men,  who  approved  of  keeping  them  in 
bondage,  had  already  come  to  wordy  war.  Illi- 
nois was  a  free  State,  but  many  of  its  people  pre- 
ferred slavery  and  took  every  opportunity  of 
making  their  wishes  known.  In  1837  the  legisla- 
ture passed  a  set  of  resolutions  "highly  disapprov- 
ing abolition  societies."  Lincoln  and  five  others 
voted  against  it;  but,  not  content  with  this,  Lin- 
coln also  drew  up  a  paper  protesting  against  the 
passage  of  such  a  resolution  and  stating  his 
views  on  slavery.  They  were  not  extreme  views. 
Though  declaring  slavery  to  be  an  evil,  he  did  not 
insist  that  the  black  people  ought  to  be  set  free. 
But  so  strong  was  the  popular  feeling  against 
anything  approaching  "abolitionism"  that  only 
one  man  out  of  the  five  who  voted  against  the 
resolution  had  the  courage  to  sign  this  protest 
with  him.  Lincoln  was  young,  poor,  and  in  need 
of  all  the  good-will  at  his  command.  Nobody 
could  have  blamed  him  for  leaving  it  unwritten; 
yet  he  felt  the  wrong  of  slavery  so  keenly  that 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


61 


he  could  not  keep  silent  merely  because  the  views 
he  held  happened  to  be  unpopular ;  and  this  pro- 
test, signed  by  him  and  Dan  Stone,  has  come 
down  to  us,  the  first  notable  public  act  in  the 


THE   BUILDING    IN    WHICH    LINCOLN   AND    STUART    HAD   THEIR 
LAW   OFFICE,    SPRINGFIELD 


great  career  that  made  his  name  immortal. 

During  the  eight  years  that  he  was  in  the  legis- 
lature he  had  been  working  away  at  the  law. 
Even     before     his     first     election     his     friend 


62  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

John  T.  Stuart,  who  had  been  major  of  volun- 
teers in  the  Black  Hawk  War  while  Lincoln  was 
captain,  and  who,  like  Lincoln,  had  reenlisted  in 
the  Independent  Spy  Battalion,  had  given  him 
hearty  encouragement.  Stuart  was  now  prac- 
tising law  in  Springfield.  After  the  campaign 
was  over,  Lincoln  borrowed  the  necessary  books 
of  Stuart,  and  entered  upon  the  study  in  good 
earnest.  According  to  his  own  statement,  "he 
studied  with  nobody.  ...  In  the  autumn  of  1836 
he  obtained  a  law  license,  and  on  April  15,  1837, 
removed  to  Springfield  and  commenced  the  prac- 
tice, his  old  friend  Stuart  taking  him  into  part- 
nership." 

Lincoln  had  already  endeared  himself  to  the 
people  of  Springfield  by  championing  a  project 
they  had  much  at  heart  — the  removal  of  the 
State  capital  from  Vandalia  to  their  own  town. 
This  was  accomplished,  largely  through  his 
efforts,  about  the  time  he  went  to  Springfield  to 
live.  This  change  from  New  Salem,  a  village  of 
fifteen  or  twenty  houses,  to  a  "city"  of  two  thou- 
sand inhabitants,  placed  him  once  more  in  strik- 
ing new  relations  as  to  dress,  manners,  and 
society.  Yet,  as  in  the  case  of  his  removal  from 
his  father's  cabin  to  New  Salem  six  years  earlier, 
the  change  was  not  so  startling  as  would  at  first 
appear.    In  spite  of  its  larger  population  and  its 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  63 

ambition  as  the  new  State  capital,  Springfield  was 
at  that  time  in  many  ways  no  great  improvement 
upon  New  Salem.  It  had  no  public  buildings, 
its  streets  and  sidewalks  were  still  unpaved,  and 
business  of  all  kinds  was  laboring  under  the  bur- 
den of  hard  times. 

As  for  himself,  although  he  now  owned  a 
license  to  practise  law,  it  was  still  a  question  how 
well  he  would  succeed — whether  his  rugged 
mind  and  firm  purpose  could  win  him  the  liveli- 
hood he  desired,  or  whether,  after  all,  he  would 
be  forced  to  turn  his  strong  muscles  to  account 
in  earning  his  daily  bread.  Usually  so  hopeful, 
there  were  times  when  he  was  greatly  depressed. 
His  friend  William  Butler  relates  how,  as  they 
were  riding  together  on  horseback  from  Van- 
dalia  to  Springfield  at  the  close  of  a  session  of 
the  legislature,  Lincoln,  in  one  of  these  gloomy 
moods,  told  him  of  the  almost  hopeless  prospect 
that  lay  immediately  before  him.  The  session 
was  over,  his  salary  was  all  drawn,  the  money 
all  spent;  he  had  no  work,  and  did  not  know 
where  to  turn  to  earn  even  a  week's  board.  But- 
ler bade  him  be  of  good  cheer,  and,  kind  prac- 
tical friend  that  he  was,  took  him  and  his  belong- 
ings to  his  own  home,  keeping  him  there  for  a 
time  as  his  guest.  His  most  intimate  friend  of 
those  days,  Joshua  F.  Speed,  tells  us  that  soon 


64  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

after  riding  into  the  new  capital  on  a  borrowed 
horse,  with  all  his  earthly  possessions  packed  in 
a  pair  of  saddle-bags,  Lincoln  entered  the  store 
owned  by  Speed,  the  saddle-bags  over  his  arm, 
to  ask  the  price  of  a  single  bed  with  its  necessary 
coverings  and  pillows.  His  question  being 
answered,  he  remarked  that  very  likely  that  was 
cheap  enough,  but,  small  as  the  price  was,  he 
was  unable  to  pay  it;  adding  that  if  Speed  was 
willing  to  credit  him  until  Christmas,  and  his 
experiment  as  a  lawyer  proved  a  success,  he 
would  pay  then.  "If  I  fail  in  this,"  he  said  sadly, 
"I  do  not  know  that  I  can  ever  pay  you."  Speed 
thought  he  had  never  seen  such  a  sorowful  face. 
He  suggested  that  instead  of  going  into  debt, 
Lincoln  might  share  his  own  roomy  quarters 
over  the  store,  assuring  him  that  if  he  chose  to 
accept  the  offer,  he  would  be  very  welcome. 

"Where  is  your  room?"  Lincoln  asked  quickly. 

"Upstairs,"  and  the  young  merchant  pointed 
to  a  flight  of  winding  steps  leading  from  the 
store  to  the  room  overhead. 

Lincoln  picked  up  the  saddle-bags,  went 
upstairs,  set  them  down  on  the  floor,  and  re- 
appeared a  moment  later,  beaming  with  pleasure. 

"Well,  Speed,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  am  moved!" 

It  is  seldom  that  heartier,  truer  friendships 
come  to  a  man  than  came  to  Lincoln  in  the  course 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  65 

of  his  life.  On  the  other  hand,  no  one  ever 
deserved  better  of  his  fellow-men  than  he  did; 
and  it  is  pleasant  to  know  that  such  brotherly  aid 
as  Butler  and  Speed  were  able  to  give  him, 
offered  in  all  sincerity  and  accepted  in  a  spirit 
that  left  no  sense  of  galling  obligation  on  either 
side,  helped  the  young  lawyer  over  present  diffi- 
culties and  made  it  possible  for  him  to  keep  on  in 
the  career  he  had  marked  out  for  himself. 

The  lawyer  who  works  his  way  up  from  a  five- 
dollar  fee  in  a  suit  before  a  justice  of  the  peace, 
to  a  five-thousand-dollar  fee  before  the  Supreme 
Court  of  his  State,  has  a  long  and  hard  path  to 
climb.  Lincoln  climbed  this  path  for  twenty-five 
years,  with  industry,  perseverance,  patience — 
above  all,  with  that  self-control  and  keen  sense 
of  right  and  wrong  which  always  clearly  traced 
the  dividing  line  between  his  duty  to  his  client 
and  his  duty  to  society  and  truth.  His  perfect 
frankness  of  statement  assured  him  the  confi- 
dence of  judge  and  jury  in  every  argument.  His 
habit  of  fully  admitting  the  weak  points  in  his 
case  gained  him  their  close  attention  to  his  strong 
ones,  and  when  clients  brought  him  questionable 
cases  his  advice  was  always  not  to  bring  suit. 

"Yes,"  he  once  said  to  a  man  who  offered  him 
such  a  case;  "there  is  no  reasonable  doubt  but 
that  I  can  gain  your  case  for  you.     I  can  set  a 


66  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

whole  neighborhood  at  loggerheads;  I  can  dis- 
tress a  widowed  mother  and  her  six  fatherless 
children,  and  thereby  gain  for  you  six  hundred 
dollars,  which  rightfully  belongs,  it  appears  to 
me,  as  much  to  them  as  it  does  to  you.  I  shall 
not  take  your  case,  but  I  will  give  you  a  little 
advice  for  nothing.  You  seem  a  sprightly,  ener- 
getic man.  I  would  advise  you  to  try  your  hand 
at  making  six  hundred  dollars  in  some  other 
way." 

He  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  "tricks" 
of  the  profession,  though  he  met  these  readily 
enough  when  practised  by  others.  He  never 
knowingly  undertook  a  case  in  which  justice  was 
on  the  side  of  his  opponent.  That  same  incon- 
venient honesty  which  prompted  him,  in  his 
store-keeping  days,  to  close  the  shop  and  go  in 
search  of  a  woman  he  had  innocently  defrauded 
of  a  few  ounces  of  tea  while  weighing  out  her 
groceries,  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  do  his 
best  with  a  poor  case.  "Swett,"  he  once 
exclaimed,  turning  suddenly  to  his  associate,  "the 
man  is  guilty;  you  defend  him — I  can't,"  and  gave 
up  his  share  of  a  large  fee. 

After  his  death  some  notes  were  found,  writ- 
ten in  his  own  hand,  that  had  evidently  been 
intended  for  a  little  lecture  or  talk  to  law  stu- 
dents. They  set  forth  forcibly,  in  a  few  words, 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  67 

his  idea  of  what  a  lawyer  ought  to  be  and  to  do. 
He  earnestly  commends  diligence  in  study,  and, 
after  diligence,  promptness  in  keeping  up  the 
work.  "As  a  general  rule,  never  take  your 
whole  fee  in  advance,"  he  says,  "nor  any  more 
than  a  small  retainer.  When  fully  paid  before- 
hand you  are  more  than  a  common  mortal  if  you 
can  feel  the  same  interest  in  the  case  as  if  some- 
thing were  still  in  prospect  for  you  as  well  as  for 
your  client."  Speech-making  should  be  prac- 
tised and  cultivated.  "It  is  the  lawyer's  avenue 
to  the  public.  However  able  and  faithful  he  may 
be  in  other  respects,  people  are  slow  to  bring  him 
business  if  he  cannot  make  a  speech.  And  yet, 
there  is  not  a  more  fatal  error  to  young  lawyers 
than  relying  too  much  on  speech-making.  If  any 
one,  upon  his  rare  powers  of  speaking,  shall 
claim  an  exemption  from  the  drudgery  of  the  law, 
his  case  is  a  failure  in  advance."  Discourage 
going  to  law.  "Persuade  your  neighbors  to 
compromise  whenever  you  can.  Point  out  to 
them  how  the  nominal  winner  is  often  a  real 
loser — in  fees,  expenses,  and  waste  of  time.  As 
a  peacemaker  the  lawyer  has  a  superior  oppor- 
tunity of  being  a  good  man.  There  will  still  be 
business  enough."  "There  is  a  vague  popular 
belief  that  lawyers  are  necessarily  dishonest. 
.     .     .     .     Let  no  young  man  choosing  the  law 


68  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

for  a  calling  for  a  moment  yield  to  the  popular 
belief.  Resolve  to  be  honest  at  all  events ;  and  if, 
in  your  own  judgment,  you  cannot  be  an  honest 
lawyer,  resolve  to  be  honest  without  being  a  law- 
yer. Choose  some  other  occupation  rather  than 
one  in  the  choosing  of  which  you  do,  in  advance, 
consent  to  be  a  knave." 

While  becoming  a  lawyer,  Lincoln  still 
remained  a  politician.  In  those  early  days  in  the 
West,  the  two  occupations  went  hand  in  hand, 
almost  of  necessity.  Laws  had  to  be  newly  made 
to  fit  the  needs  of  the  new  settlements,  and  there- 
fore a  large  proportion  of  lawyers  was  sent  to 
the  State  legislature.  In  the  summer  these  same 
lawyers  went  about  the  State,  practising  before 
the  circuit  courts,  Illinois  being  divided  into 
what  were  called  judicial  circuits,  each  taking 
in  several  counties,  and  sometimes  covering  ter- 
ritory more  than  a  hundred  miles  square.  Spring- 
field and  the  neighboring  towns  were  in  the 
eighth  judicial  circuit.  Twice  a  year  the  circuit 
judge  traveled  from  one  county-seat  to  another, 
the  lawyers  who  had  business  before  the  court 
following  also.  As  newspapers  were  neither 
plentiful  nor  widely  read,  members  of  the  legis- 
lature were  often  called  upon,  while  on  these 
journeys,  to  explain  the  laws  they  had  helped  to 
make    during    the    previous    winter,    and    thus 


RIDING   THE    CIRCUIT 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  71 

became  the  political  teachers  of  the  people.  They 
had  to  be  well  informed  and  watchful.  When, 
like  Mr.  Lincoln,  they  were  witty,  and  had  a 
fund  of  interesting  stories  besides,  they  were 
sure  of  a  welcome  and  a  hearing  in  the  court- 
room, or  in  the  social  gatherings  that  roused  the 
various  little  towns  during  "court-week"  into  a 
liveliness  quite  out  of  the  common.  The  tavern 
would  be  crowded  to  its  utmost — the  judge  hav- 
ing the  best  room,  and  the  lawyers  being  put  in 
what  was  left,  late  comers  being  lucky  to  find 
even  a  sleeping-place  on  the  floor.  When  not 
occupied  in  court,  or  preparing  cases  for  the  mor- 
row, they  would  sit  in  the  public  room,  or  carry 
their  chairs  out  on  the  sidewalk  in  front, 
exchanging  stories  and  anecdotes,  or  pieces  of 
political  wisdom,  while  men  from  the  town  and 
surrounding  farms,  dropping  in  on  one  pretext  or 
another,  found  excuse  to  linger  and  join  in  the 
talk.  At  meal-times  the  judge  presided  at  the 
head  of  the  long  hotel  table,  on  which  the  food 
was  abundant  if  not  always  wholesome,  and 
around  which  lawyers,  jurors,  witnesses,  pris- 
oners out  on  bail,  and  the  men  who  drove  the 
teams,  gathered  in  friendly  equality.  Stories  of 
what  Mr.  Lincoln  did  and  said  on  the  eighth 
judicial  circuit  are  still  quoted  almost  with  the 
force  of  law ;  for  in  this  close  companionship  men 


J2  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

came  to  know  each  other  thoroughly,  and  were 
judged  at  their  true  value  professionally,  as  well 
as  for  their  power  to  entertain. 

It  was  only  in  worldly  wealth  that  Lincoln  was 
poor.  He  could  hold  his  own  with  the  best  on 
the  eighth  judicial  circuit,  or  anywhere  else  in 
the  State.  He  made  friends  wherever  he  went. 
In  politics,  in  daily  conversation,  in  his  work  as 
a  lawyer,  his  life  was  gradually  broadening. 
Slowly  but  surely,  too,  his  gifts  as  an  attractive 
public  speaker  were  becoming  known.  In  1837 
he  wrote  and  delivered  an  able  address  before 
the  Young  Men's  Lyceum  of  Springfield.  In 
December,  1839,  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  the  most 
brilliant  of  the  young  Democrats  then  in  Spring- 
field, challenged  the  young  Whigs  of  the  town 
to  a  tournament  of  political  speech-making,  in 
which  Lincoln  bore  a  full  and  successful  share. 

The  man  who  could  not  pay  a  week's  board  bill 
was  again  elected  to  the  legislature,  was  invited 
to  public  banquets  and  toasted  by  name,  became 
a  popular  speaker,  moved  in  the  best  society  of 
the  new  capital,  and  made,  as  his  friends  and 
neighbors  declared,  a  brilliant  marriage. 


IV 


CONGRESSMAN    LINCOLN 

HOPEFUL  and  cheerful  as  he  ordinarily 
seemed,  there  was  in  Mr.  Lincoln's  dispo- 
sition a  strain  of  deep  melancholy.  This  was  not 
peculiar  to  him  alone,  for  the  pioneers  as  a  race 
were  somber  rather  than  gay.  Their  lives  had 
been  passed  for  generations  under  the  most  try- 
ing physical  conditions,  near  malaria-infested 
streams,  and  where  they  breathed  the  poison  of 
decaying  vegetation.  Insufficient  shelter,  storms, 
the  cold  of  winter,  savage  enemies,  and  the  cruel 
labor  that  killed  off  all  but  the  hardiest  of  them, 
had  at  the  same  time  killed  the  happy-go-lucky 
gaiety  of  an  easier  form  of  life.  They  were 
thoughtful,  watchful,  wary;  capable  indeed  of 
wild  merriment :  but  it  has  been  said  that  although 
a  pioneer  might  laugh,  he  could  not  easily  be 
made  to  smile.  Lincoln's  mind  was  unusually 
sound  and  sane  and  normal.  He  had  a  cheerful, 
wholesome,  sunny  nature,  yet  he  had  inherited 
the  strongest  traits  of  the  pioneers,  and  there 


74 


THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 


was  in  him,  moreover,  much  of  the  poet,  with  a 
poet's  great  capacity  for  joy  and  pain.  It  is  not 
strange  that  as  he  developed  into  manhood,  espec- 
ially when  his  deeper  nature  began  to  feel  the 
stirrings  of  ambition  and  of  love,  these  seasons 
of  depression  and  gloom  came  upon  him  with 
overwhelming  force. 

During  his  childhood  he  had  known  few 
women,  save  his  mother,  and  that  kind,  God- 
fearing woman  his  stepmother,  who  did  so  much 
to  make  his  childhood  hopeful  and  happy.  No 
man  ever  honored  women  more  truly  than  did 
Abraham  Lincoln;  while  all  the  qualities  that 
caused  men  to  like  him— his  strength,  his  ambi- 
tion, his  kindliness — served  equally  to  make  him 
a  favorite  with  them.  In  the  years  of  his  young 
manhood  three  women  greatly  occupied  his 
thoughts.  The  first  was  the  slender,  fair-haired 
Ann  Rutledge,  whom  he  very  likely  saw  for  the 
first  time  as  she  stood  with  the  group  of  mocking 
people  on  the  river-bank,  near  her  father's  mill, 
the  day  Lincoln's  flatboat  stuck  on  the  dam  at 
New  Salem.  It  was  her  death,  two  years  before 
he  went  to  live  at  Springfield,  that  brought  on 
the  first  attack  of  melancholy  of  which  we  know, 
causing  him  such  deep  grief  that  for  a  time  his 
friends  feared  his  sorrow  might  drive  him  insane. 

Another  friend  was  Mary  Owens,  a  Kentucky 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  75 

girl,  very  different  from  the  gentle,  blue-eyed 
Ann  Rutledge,  but  worthy  in  every  way  of  a 
man's  affections.  She  had  visited  her  sister  in 
New  Salem  several  years  before,  and  Lincoln 
remembered  her  as  a  tall,  handsome,  well-edu- 
cated young  woman,  who  could  be  serious  as 
well  as  gay,  and  who  was  considered  wealthy. 
In  the  autumn  of  1836,  her  sister,  Mrs.  Able, 
then  about  to  start  on  a  visit  to  Kentucky,  jok- 
ingly offered  to  bring  Mary  back  if  Lincoln  would 
promise  to  marry  her.  He,  also  in  jest,  agreed 
to  do  so.  Much  to  his  astonishment,  he  learned, 
a  few  months  later,  that  she  had  actually 
returned  with  Mrs.  Able,  and  his  sensitive 
conscience  made  him  feel  that  the  jest  had  turned 
into  real  earnest,  and  that  he  was  in  duty  bound 
to  keep  his  promise  if  she  wished  him  to  do  so. 
They  had  both  changed  since  they  last  met; 
neither  proved  quite  pleasing  to  the  other,  yet 
an  odd  sort  of  courtship  was  kept  up,  until,  some 
time  after  Lincoln  went  to  live  in  Springfield, 
Miss  Owens  put  an  end  to  the  affair  by  refusing 
him  courteously  but  firmly.  Meantime  he  lived 
through  much  unhappiness  and  uncertainty  of 
spirit,  and  made  up  his  mind  "never  again  to 
think  of  marrying"  :  a  resolution  which  he  kept — 
until  another  Kentucky  girl  drove  it  from  his 
thoughts. 


76  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

Springfield  had  by  this  time  become  very  lively 
and  enterprising.  There  was  a  deal  of  "flourish- 
ing around  in  carriages,"  as  Lincoln  wrote  Miss 
Owens,  and  business  and  politics  and  society 
all  played  an  active  part  in  the  life  of  the  little 
town.  The  meetings  of  the  legislature  brought 
to  the  new  capital  a  group  of  young  men  of 
unusual  talent  and  ability.  There  was  friendly 
rivalry  between  them,  and  party  disputes  ran 
high,  but  social  good-humor  prevailed,  and  the 
presence  of  these  brilliant  young  people,  later  to 
become  famous  as  Presidential  candidates,  cabinet 
ministers,  senators,  congressmen,  orators,  and 
battle  heroes,  lent  to  the  social  gatherings  of 
Springfield  a  zest  rarely  found  in  larger  places. 

Into  the  midst  of  this  gaiety  came  Mary  Todd 
of  Kentucky,  twenty-one  years  old,  handsome, 
accomplished  and  witty — a  dashing  and  fascinat- 
ing figure  in  dress  and  conversation.  She  was 
the  sister  of  Mrs.  Ninian  W.  Edwards,  whose 
husband  was  a  prominent  Whig  member  of  the 
legislature— one  of  the  "Long  Nine,"  as  these 
men  were  known.  Their  added  height  was  said 
to  be  fifty-five  feet,  and  they  easily  made  up  in 
influence  what  they  lacked  in  numbers.  Lincoln 
was  the  "tallest"  of  them  all  in  body  and  in  mind, 
and  although  as  poor  as  a  church  mouse,  was 
quite  as  welcome  anywhere  as  the  men  who  wore 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  y-j 

ruffled  shirts  and  could  carry  gold  watches.  Miss 
Todd  soon  singled  out  and  held  the  admiration 
of  such  of  the  Springfield  beaux  as  pleased  her 
somewhat  wilful  fancy,  and  Lincoln,  being  much 
at  the  Edwards  house,  found  himself,  almost 
before  he  knew  it,  entangled  in  a  new  love-affair. 
In  the  course  of  a  twelvemonth  he  was  engaged 
to  marry  her,  but  something,  nobody  knows  what 
or  how,  happened  to  break  the  engagement,  and 
to  plunge  him  again  in  a  very  sea  of  wretched- 
ness. Nor  is  it  necessary  that  we  should  know 
about  it  further  than  that  a  great  trouble  came 
upon  him,  which  he  bore  nobly,  after  his  kind. 
Few  men  have  had  his  stern  sense  of  duty,  his 
tenderness  of  heart,  his  conscience,  so  easy  to- 
ward others,  so  merciless  toward  himself.  The 
trouble  preyed  upon  his  mind  until  he  could  think 
of  nothing  else.  He  became  unable  to  attend  to 
business,  or  to  take  any  part  in  the  life  around 
him.  Fearing  for  his  reason  as  well  as  for  his 
health  if  this  continued,  his  good  friend  Joshua  F. 
Speed  carried  him  off,  whether  he  wished  or  no, 
for  a  visit  to  his  own  home  in  Kentucky.  Here 
they  stayed  for  some  time,  and  Lincoln  grew  much 
better,  returning  to  Springfield  about  midsum- 
mer, almost  his  old  self,  though  far  from  happy. 
An  affair  that  helped  to  bring  the  lovers  to- 
gether again  is  so  out  of  keeping  with  the  rest 


78  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

of  his  life,  that  it  would  deserve  mention  for 
that  reason,  if  for  no  other.  This  is  nothing 
less  than  Lincoln's  first  and  only  duel.  It  hap- 
pened that  James  Shields,  afterward  a  general 
in  two  wars  and  a  senator  from  two  States,  was 
at  that  time  auditor  of  the  State  of  Illinois,  with 
his  office  at  Springfield.  He  was  a  Democrat, 
and  an  Irishman  by  birth,  with  an  Irishman's 
quick  temper  and  readiness  to  take  offense.  He 
had  given  orders  about  collecting  certain  taxes 
which  displeased  the  Whigs,  and  shortly  after 
Lincoln  came  back  from  Kentucky  a  series  of 
humorous  letters  ridiculing  the  auditor  and  his 
order  appeared  in  the  Springfield  paper,  to  the 
great  amusement  of  the  townspeople  and  the  fury 
of  Shields.  These  letters  were  dated  from  the 
"Lost  Townships,"  and  were  supposed  to  be 
written  by  a  farmer's  widow  signing  herself 
"Aunt  Rebecca."  The  real  writers  were  Miss 
Todd  and  a  clever  friend,  who  undertook  them 
more  for  the  purpose  of  poking  fun  at  Shields 
than  for  party  effect.  In  framing  the  political 
part  of  their  attack,  they  had  found  it  necessary 
to  consult  Lincoln,  and  he  obligingly  set  them  a 
pattern  by  writing  the  first  letter  himself. 

Shields  sent  to  the  editor  of  the  paper  to  find 
out  the  name  of  the  real  "Rebecca."  The  editor, 
as  in  duty  bound,  consulted  Lincoln,  and  was  told 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  79 

to  give  Lincoln's  name,  but  not  to  mention  the 
ladies.  Shields  then  sent  Lincoln  an  angry  chal- 
lenge; and  Lincoln,  who  considered  the  whole 
affair  ridiculous,  and  would  willingly  have 
explained  his  part  in  it  if  Shields  had  made  a 
gentlemanly  inquiry,  chose  as  weapons  "broad- 
swords of  the  largest  size,"  and  named  as 
conditions  of  the  duel  that  a  plank  ten  feet  long- 
be  firmly  fixed  on  edge  in  the  ground,  as  a  line 
over  which  neither  combatant  was  to  pass  his 
foot  upon  forfeit  of  his  life.  Next,  lines  were 
to  be  drawn  upon  the  ground  on  each  side  of  the 
plank,  parallel  with  it,  at  the  distance  of  the  whole 
length  of  the  sword  and  three  feet  additional. 
The  passing  of  his  own  line  by  either  man  was 
to  be  deemed  a  surrender  of  the  fight. 

It  is  easy  to  see  from  these  conditions  that 
Lincoln  refused  to  consider  the  matter  seriously, 
and  determined  to  treat  it  as  absurdly  as  it  de- 
served. He  and  Shields,  and  their  respective 
seconds,  with  the  broadswords,  hurried  away  to 
an  island  in  the  Mississippi  River,  opposite  Alton ; 
but  long  before  the  plank  was  set  up,  or  swords 
were  drawn,  mutual  friends  took  the  matter  out 
of  the  hands  of  the  seconds,  and  declared  a  settle- 
ment of  the  difficulty. 

The  affair  created  much  talk  and  merriment 
in  Springfield,  but  Lincoln  found  in  it  more  than 


80  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

comedy.  By  means  of  it  he  and  Miss  Todd  were 
again  brought  together  in  friendly  interviews, 
and  on  November  4,  1842,  they  were  married  at 
the  house  of  Mr.  Edwards.  Four  children  were 
born  of  this  marriage:  Robert  Todd  Lincoln, 
August  1,  1843;  Edward  Baker  Lincoln,  March 
10,  1846;  William  Wallace  Lincoln,  December  21, 
1850;  and  Thomas  Lincoln,  April  4,  1853.  Ed- 
ward died  while  a  baby;  William,  in  the  White 
House,  February  20,  1862;  Thomas  in  Chicago, 
July  15,  1871 ;  and  the  mother,  Mary  Lincoln,  in 
Springfield,  July  16,  1882.  Robert  Lincoln  was 
graduated  from  Harvard  during  the  Civil  War, 
serving  afterward  on  the  staff  of  General  Grant. 
He  has  since  been  Secretary  of  War  and  Minister 
to  England,  and  has  held  many  other  important 
positions  of  trust. 

His  wedding  over,  Lincoln  took  up  again  the 
practical  routine  of  daily  life.  He  and  his  bride 
were  so  poor  that  they  could  not  make  the  visit 
to  Kentucky  that  both  would  so  much  have  en- 
joyed. They  could  not  even  set  up  a  little  home 
of  their  own.  "We  are  not  keeping  house,"  he 
wrote  to  a  friend,  "but  boarding  at  the  Globe 
Tavern,"  where,  he  added,  their  room  and  board 
only  cost  them  four  dollars  a  week.  His 
"National  Debt"  of  the  old  New  Salem  days  was 
not  yet  all  paid  off,  and  patiently  and  resolutely 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  83 

he  went  on  practising  the  economy  he  had  learned 
in  the  hard  school  of  experience. 

Lincoln's  law  partnership  with  John  T.  Stuart 
had  lasted  four  years.  Then  Stuart  was  elected 
to  Congress,  and  another  one  was  formed  with 
Judge  Stephen  T.  Logan.  It  was  a  well-timed 
and  important  change.  Stuart  had  always  cared 
more  for  politics  than  for  law.  With  Logan  law 
was  the  main  object,  and  under  his  guidance  and 
encouragement  Lincoln  entered  upon  the  study 
and  practical  work  of  his  profession  in  a  more 
serious  spirit  than  ever  before.  His  interest  in 
politics  continued,  however,  and  in  truth  his  prac- 
tice at  that  time  was  so  small  as  to  leave  ample 
time  for  both.  Stuart  had  been  twice  elected  to 
Congress,  and  very  naturally  Lincoln,  who  served 
his  party  quite  as  faithfully,  and  was  fully  as  well 
known,  hoped  for  a  similar  honor.  He  had  prof- 
ited greatly  by  the  companionship  and  friendly 
rivalry  of  the  talented  young  men  of  Springfield, 
but  their  talent  made  the  prize  he  wished  the 
harder  to  gain.  Twice  he  was  disappointed,  the 
nomination  going  to  other  men ;  but  in  May,  1846, 
he  was  nominated,  and  in  August  of  the  same 
year  elected,  to  the  Thirtieth  Congress.  He  had 
the  distinction  of  being  the  only  Whig  member 
from  his  State,  the  other  Illinois  congressmen  at 
that  time  all  being  Democrats ;  but  he  proved  no 


84  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

exception  to  the  general  rule  that  a  man  rarely 
comes  into  notice  during  his  first  term  in  the 
National  House  of  Representatives.  A  new 
member  has  much  to  learn,  even  when,  like  Lin- 
coln, long  service  in  a  State  legislature  has  taught 
him  how  the  business  of  making  laws  is  carried 
on.  He  must  find  out  what  has  been  done  and  is 
likely  to  be  done  on  a  multitude  of  subjects  new 
to  him,  must  make  the  acquaintance  of  his  fellow- 
members,  must  visit  the  departments  of  govern- 
ment almost  daily  to  look  after  the  interests  of 
people  from  his  State  and  congressional  district. 
Legally  he  is  elected  for  a  term  of  two  years. 
Practically  a  session  of  five  or  six  months  during 
the  first  year,  and  of  three  months  during  the 
second,  further  reduce  his  opportunities  more 
than  one-half. 

Lincoln  did  not  attempt  to  shine  forth  in 
debate,  either  by  a  stinging  retort,  or  burst  of 
inspired  eloquence.  He  went  about  his  task 
quietly  and  earnestly,  performing  his  share  of 
duty  with  industry  and  a  hearty  admiration  for 
the  ability  of  better-known  members.  "I  just 
take  my  pen,"  he  wrote  enthusiastically  to  a 
friend  after  listening  to  a  speech  which  pleased 
him  much,  "to  say  that  Mr.  Stephens,  of 
Georgia,  is  a  little  slim,  pale-faced  consumptive 
man,  with  a  voice  like  Logan's,  has  just  con- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  85 

eluded  the  very  best  speech  of  an  hour's  length 
I  ever  heard.  My  old  withered,  dry  eyes  are 
full  of  tears  yet." 

During  the  first  session  of  his  term  Lincoln 
made  three  long  speeches,  carefully  prepared  and 
written  out  beforehand.  He  was  neither  elated 
nor  dismayed  at  the  result.  "As  to  speech-mak- 
ing," he  wrote  William  H.  Herndon,  who  had 
now  become  his  law  partner,  "I  find  speaking 
here  and  elsewhere  about  the  same  thing.  I  was 
about  as  badly  scared,  and  no  worse,  as  I  am 
when  I  speak  in  court." 

The  next  year  he  made  no  set  speeches,  but 
in  addition  to  the  usual  work  of  a  congressman 
occupied  himself  with  a  bill  that  had  for  its 
object  the  purchase  and  freeing  of  all  slaves  in 
the  District  of  Columbia.  Slavery  was  not  only 
lawful  at  the  national  capital  at  that  time :  there 
was,  to  quote  Mr.  Lincoln's  own  graphic  words, 
"in  view  from  the  windows  of  the  Capitol  a  sort 
of  negro  livery-stable,  where  droves  of  negroes 
were  collected,  temporarily  kept,  and  finally  taken 
to  Southern  markets,  precisely  like  droves  of 
horses." 

To  Lincoln  and  to  other  people  who  disap- 
proved of  slavery,  the  idea  of  human  beings  held 
in  bondage  under  the  very  shadow  of  the  dome 
of  the  Capitol  seemed  indeed  a  bitter  mockery.   As 


86  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

has  already  been  stated,  he  did  not  then  believe 
Congress  had  the  right  to  interfere  with  slavery 
in  States  that  chose  to  have  it;  but  in  the  District 
of  Columbia  the  power  of  Congress  was  supreme, 
and  the  matter  was  entirely  different.  His  bill 
provided  that  the  Federal  Government  should  pay 
full  value  to  the  slave-holders  of  the  District  for 
all  slaves  in  their  possession,  and  should  at  once 
free  the  older  ones.  The  younger  ones  were  to 
be  apprenticed  for  a  term  of  years,  in  order  to 
make  them  self-supporting,  after  which  they  also 
were  to  receive  their  freedom.  The  bill  was  very 
carefully  thought  out,  and  had  the  approval  of 
residents  of  the  District  who  held  the  most  varied 
views  upon  slavery;  but  good  as  it  was,  the 
measure  was  never  allowed  to  come  to  a  vote, 
and  Lincoln  went  back  to  Springfield,  at  the  end 
of  his  term,  feeling  doubtless  that  his  efforts  in 
behalf  of  the  slaves  had  been  all  in  vain. 

While  in  Washington  he  lived  very  simply  and 
quietly,  taking  little  part  in  the  social  life  of  the 
city,  though  cordially  liked  by  all  who  made  his 
acquaintance.  An  inmate  of  the  modest  board- 
ing-house where  he  had  rooms  has  told  of  the 
cheery  atmosphere  he  seemed  to  bring  with  him 
into  the  common  dining-room,  where  political 
arguments  were  apt  to  run  high.  He  never  ap- 
peared anxious  to  insist  upon  his  own  views; 


'HE    ALWAYS    BROUGHT   A   CHEERY    ATMOSPHERE   INTO    THE    DINING-ROOM  " 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  89 

and  when  others,  less  considerate,  forced  matters 
until  the  talk  threatened  to  become  too  furious, 
he  would  interrupt  with  an  anecdote  or  a  story 
that  cleared  the  air  and  ended  the  discussion  in 
a  general  laugh.  Sometimes  for  exercise  he 
would  go  into  a  bowling-alley  close  by,  entering 
into  the  game  with  great  zest,  and  accepting  de- 
feat and  victory  with  equal  good-nature.  By  the 
time  he  had  finished  a  little  circle  would  be  gath- 
ered around  him,  enjoying  his  enjoyment,  and 
laughing  at  his  quaint  expressions  and  sallies 
of  wit. 

His  gift  for  jest  and  story-telling  has  become 
traditional.  Indeed.,  almost  every  good  story 
that  has  been  invented  within  a  hundred  years 
has  been  laid  at  his  door.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
though  he  was  fond  of  telling  them,  and  told 
them  well,  he  told  comparatively  few  of  the 
number  that  have  been  credited  to  him.  He  had 
a  wonderful  memory,  and  a  fine  power  of  making 
his  hearers  see  the  scene  he  wished  to  depict;  but 
the  final  charm  of  his  stories  lay  in  their  aptness, 
and  in  the  kindly  humor  that  left  no  sting 
behind  it. 

During  his  term  in  Congress  the  Presidential 
campaign  of  1848  came  on.  Lincoln  took  an 
active  part  in  the  nomination  and  election  of 
General    Zachary    Taylor — "Old    Rough    and 


9o  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

Ready,"  as  he  was  called — making  speeches  in 
Maryland  and  Massachusetts,  as  well  as  in  his 
own  home  district  of  Illinois.  Two  letters  that 
he  wrote  during  this  campaign  have  special 
interest  for  young  readers,  for  they  show  the 
sympathetic  encouragement  he  gave  to  young 
men  anxious  to  make  a  place  and  a  name  for 
themselves  in  American  politics. 

"Now  as  to  the  young  men,"  he  wrote. 
"You  must  not  wait  to  be  brought  forward  by 
the  older  men.  For  instance,  do  you  suppose 
that  I  should  ever  have  got  into  notice  if  I  had 
waited  to  be  hunted  up  and  pushed  forward  by 
older  men?  You  young  men  get  together 
and  form  a  'Rough  and  Ready'  club,  and  have  reg- 
ular meetings  and  speeches.  .  .  .  Let  every  one 
play  the  part  he  can  play  best — some  speak,  some 
sing,  and  all  'holler.'  Your  meetings  will  be  of 
evenings;  the  older  men,  and  the  women,  will 
go  to  hear  you ;  so  that  it  will  not  only  contribute 
to  the  election  of  'Old  Zach,'  but  will  be  an  inter- 
esting pastime,  and  improving  to  the  intellectual 
faculties  of  all  engaged." 

In  another  letter,  answering  a  young  friend 
who  complained  of  being  neglected,  he  said: 

"Nothing  could  afford  me  more  satisfaction 
than  to  learn  that  you  and  others  of  my  young 
friends  at  home  are  doing  battle  in  the  contest 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  91 

.  .  .  and  taking  a  stand  far  above  any  I  have 
ever  been  able  to  reach.  ...  I  cannot  conceive 
that  other  old  men  feel  differently.  Of  course 
I  cannot  demonstrate  what  I  say;  but  I  was 
young  once,  and  I  am  sure  I  was  never  ungen- 
erously thrust  back.  I  hardly  know  what  to 
say.  The  way  for  a  young  man  to  rise  is  to 
improve  himself  every  way  he  can,  never  sus- 
pecting that  anybody  wishes  to  hinder  him. 
Allow  me  to  assure  you  that  suspicion  and 
jealousy  never  did  help  any  man  in  any  situa- 
tion. There  may  sometimes  be  ungenerous 
attempts  to  keep  a  young  man  down;  and  they 
will  succeed,  too,  if  he  allows  his  mind  to  be 
diverted  from  its  true  channel  to  brood  over  the 
attempted  injury.  Cast  about  and  see  if  this 
feeling  has  not  injured  every  person  you  have 
ever  known  to  fall  into  it." 

He  was  about  forty  years  old  when  he  wrote 
this  letter.  By  some  people  that  is  not  consid- 
ered a  very  great  age ;  but  he  doubtless  felt  him- 
self immensely  older,  as  he  was  infinitely  wiser, 
than  his  petulant  young  correspondent. 

General  Taylor  was  triumphantly  elected,  and 
it  then  became  Lincoln's  duty,  as  Whig  member 
of  Congress  from  Illinois,  to  recommend  certain 
persons  to  fill  government  offices  in  that  State. 
He  did  this  after  he  returned  to  Springfield,  for 


92  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

his  term  in  Congress  ended  on  March  4,  1849, 
the  day  that  General  Taylor  became  President. 
The  letters  that  he  sent  to  Washington  when 
forwarding  the  papers  and  applications  of  people 
who  wished  appointment  were  both  characteristic 
and  amusing;  for  in  his  desire  not  to  mislead  or 
to  do  injustice  to  any  man,  they  were  very  apt 
to  say  more  in  favor  of  the  men  he  did  not  wish 
to  see  appointed  than  in  recommendation  of  his 
own  particular  candidates. 

This  absolute  and  impartial  fairness  to  friend 
and  foe  alike  was  one  of  his  strongest  traits, 
governing  every  action  of  his  life.  If  it  had 
not  been  for  this,  he  might  possibly  have  en- 
joyed another  term  in  Congress,  for  there  had 
been  talk  of  reelecting  him.  In  spite  of  his 
confession  to  Speed  that  "being  elected  to  Con- 
gress, though  I  am  very  grateful  to  our  friends 
for  having  done  it,  has  not  pleased  me  as  much  as 
I  expected,"  this  must  have  been  flattering.  But 
there  were  many  able  young  men  in  Springfield 
who  coveted  the  honor,  and  they  had  entered  into 
an  agreement  among  themselves  that  each  would 
be  content  with  a  single  term.  Lincoln  of  course 
remained  faithful  to  this  promise.  His  strict 
keeping  of  promises  caused  him  also  to  lose  an 
appointment  from  President  Taylor  as  Commis- 
sioner of  the  General  Land  Office,  which  might 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  93 

easily  have  been  his,  but  for  which  he  had  agreed 
to  recommend  some  other  Illinois  man.  A  few 
weeks  later  the  President  offered  to  make  him 
governor  of  the  new  Territory  of  Oregon.  This 
attracted  him  much  more  than  the  other  office 
had  done,  but  he  declined  because  his  wife  was 
unwilling  to  live  in  a  place  so  far  away. 

His  career  in  Congress,  while  adding  little  to 
his  fame  at  the  time,  proved  of  great  advantage 
to  him  in  after  life,  for  it  gave  him  a  close 
knowledge  of  the  workings  of  the  Federal  Gov- 
ernment, and  brought  him  into  contact  with  poli 
tical  leaders  from  all  parts  of  the  Union. 


THE   CHAMPION    OF    FREEDOM 

FOR  four  or  five  years  after  his  return  from 
Congress,  Lincoln  remained  in  Springfield, 
working  industriously  at  his  profession.  He 
was  offered  a  law  partnership  in  Chicago,  but 
declined  on  the  ground  that  his  health  would 
not  stand  the  confinement  of  a  great  city.  His 
business  increased  in  volume  and  importance  as 
the  months  went  by;  and  it  was  during  this  time 
that  he  engaged  in  what  is  perhaps  the  most 
dramatic  as  well  as  the  best  known  of  all  his 
law  cases— his  defense  of  Jack  Armstrong's  son 
on  a  charge  of  murder.  A  knot  of  young  men 
had  quarreled  one  night  on  the  outskirts  of  a 
camp-meeting,  one  was  killed,  and  suspicion 
pointed  strongly  toward  young  Armstrong  as 
the  murderer.  Lincoln,  for  old  friendship's  sake, 
offered  to  defend  him — an  offer  most  gratefully 
accepted  by  his  family.  The  principal  witness 
swore  that  he  had  seen  young  Armstrong  strike 
the  fatal  blow — had  seen  him  distinctly  by  the 

94 


LINCOLN    ADDRESSING   THE  JURY   IN    HIS    DEFENSE    OF  ]J 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  97 

light  of  a  bright  moon.  Lincoln  made  him  repeat 
the  statement  until  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  sealing 
the  death-warrant  of  the  prisoner.  Then  Lincoln 
began  his  address  to  the  jury.  He  was  not  there 
as  a  hired  attorney,  he  told  them,  but  because  of 
friendship.  He  told  of  his  old  relations  with 
Jack  Armstrong,  of  the  kindness  the  prisoner's 
mother  had  shown  him  in  New  Salem,  how  he 
had  himself  rocked  the  prisoner  to  sleep  when 
the  latter  was  a  little  child.  Then  he  reviewed 
the  testimony,  pointing  out  how  completely  every- 
thing depended  on  the  statements  of  this  one 
witness;  and  ended  by  proving  beyond  question 
that  his  testimony  was  false,  since,  according  to 
the  almanac,  which  he  produced  in  court  and 
showed  to  judge  and  jury,  there  was  no  moon  in 
the  sky  that  night  at  the  hour  the  murder  was 
committed.  The  jury  brought  in  a  verdict  of 
"Not  guilty,"  and  the  prisoner  was  discharged. 
Lincoln  was  always  strong  with  a  jury.  He 
knew  how  to  handle  men,  and  he  had  a  direct 
way  of  going  to  the  heart  of  things.  He  had, 
moreover,  unusual  powers  of  mental  discipline. 
It  was  after  his  return  from  Congress,  when  he 
had  long  been  acknowledged  one  of  the  foremost 
lawyers  of  the  State,  that  he  made  up  his  mind 
he  lacked  the  power  of  close  and  sustained  rea- 
soning, and  set  himself  like  a  schoolboy  to  study 


98  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

works  of  logic  and  mathematics  to  remedy  the 
defect.  At  this  time  he  committed  to  memory 
six  books  of  the  propositions  of  Euclid;  and, 
as  always,  he  was  an  eager  reader  on  many  sub- 
jects, striving  in  this  way  to  make  up  for  the  lack 
of  education  he  had  had  as  a  boy.  He  was  al- 
ways interested  in  mechanical  principles  and 
their  workings,  and  in  May,  1849,  patented 
a  device  for  lifting  vessels  over  shoals,  which 
had  evidently  been  dormant  in  his  mind  since 
the  days  of  his  early  Mississippi  River  ex- 
periences. The  little  model  of  a  boat,  whittled 
out  with  his  own  hand,  that  he  sent  to  the 
Patent  Office  when  he  filed  his  application,  is 
still  shown  to  visitors,  though  the  invention  itself 
failed  to  bring  about  any  change  in  steamboat 
architecture. 

In  work  and  study  time  slipped  away.  He 
was  the  same  cheery  companion  as  of  old,  much 
sought  after  by  his  friends,  but  now  more  often 
to  be  found  in  his  office  surrounded  by  law-books 
and  papers  than  had  been  the  case  before  his 
term  in  Congress.  His  interest  in  politics  seemed 
almost  to  have  ceased  when,  in  1854,  something 
happened  to  rouse  that  and  his  sense  of  right  and 
justice  as  they  had  never  been  roused  before. 
This  was  the  repeal  of  the  "Missouri  Com- 
promise," a  law  passed  by  Congress  in  the  year 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  99 

1820,  allowing  Missouri  to  enter  the  Union  as 
a  slave  State,  but  positively  forbidding  slavery 
in  all  other  territory  of  the  United  States  lying 
north  of  latitude  360  30',  which  was  the  southern 
boundary-line  of  Missouri. 

Up  to  that  time  the  Southern  States,  where 
slavery  was  lawful,  had  been  as  wealthy  and 
quite  as  powerful  in  politics  as  the  Northern  or 
free  States.  The  great  unoccupied  territory  lying 
to  the  west,  which,  in  years  to  come,  was  sure  to 
be  filled  with  people  and  made  into  new  States, 
lay,  however,  mostly  north  of  360  30';  and  it  was 
easy  to  see  that  as  new  free  States  came  one  after 
the  other  into  the  Union  the  importance  of  the 
South  must  grow  less  and  less,  because  there  was 
little  or  no  territory  left  out  of  which  slave  States 
could  be  made  to  offset  them.  The  South  there- 
fore had  been  anxious  to  have  the  Missouri 
Compromise  repealed. 

The  people  of  the  North,  on  the  other  hand, 
were  not  all  wise  or  disinterested  in  their  way 
of  attacking  slavery.  As  always  happens,  self- 
interest  and  moral  purpose  mingled  on  both  sides  ; 
but,  as  a  whole,  it  may  be  said  that  they  wished 
to  get  rid  of  slavery  because  they  felt  it  to  be 
wrong,  and  totally  out  of  place  in  a  country 
devoted  to  freedom  and  liberty.  The  quarrel  be- 
tween them  was  as  old  as  the  nation,  and  it  had 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  101 

been  gaining  steadily  in  intensity.  At  first  only 
a  few  persons  in  each  section  had  been  really 
interested.  By  the  year  1850  it  had  come  to  be 
a  question  of  much  greater  moment,  and  during 
the  ten  years  that  followed  was  to  increase  in 
bitterness  until  it  absorbed  the  thoughts  of  the 
entire  people,  and  plunged  the  country  into  a 
terrible  civil  war. 

Abraham  Lincoln  had  grown  to  manhood  while 
the  question  was  gaining  in  importance.  As  a 
youth,  during  his  flatboat  voyages  to  New  Or- 
leans he  had  seen  negroes  chained  and  beaten, 
and  the  injustice  of  slavery  had  been  stamped 
upon  his  soul.  The  uprightness  of  his  mind  ab- 
horred a  system  that  kept  men  in  bondage  merely 
because  they  happened  to  be  black.  The  intensity 
of  his  feeling  on  the  subject  had  made  him  a 
Whig  when,  as  a  friendless  boy,  he  lived  in  a 
town  where  Whig  ideas  were  much  in  disfavor. 
The  same  feeling,  growing  stronger  as  he  grew 
older,  had  inspired  the  Lincoln-Stone  protest  and 
the  bill  to  free  the  slaves  in  the  District  of  Colum- 
bia, and  had  caused  him  to  vote  at  least  forty 
times  against  slavery  in  one  form  or  another 
during  his  short  term  in  Congress.  The  repeal 
of  the  Missouri  Compromise,  throwing  open 
once  more  to  slavery  a  vast  amount  of  territory 
from  which  it  had  been  shut  out,  could  not  fail 


102  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

to  move  him  deeply.  His  sense  of  justice  and 
his  strong  powers  of  reasoning  were  equally 
stirred,  and  from  that  time  until  slavery  came 
to  its  end  through  his  own  act,  he  gave  his  time 
and  all  his  energies  to  the  cause  of  freedom. 

Two  points  served  to  make  the  repeal  of  the 
Missouri  Compromise  of  special  interest  to 
Lincoln.  The  first  was  personal,  in  that  the  man 
who  championed  the  measure,  and  whose  influ- 
ence in  Congress  alone  made  it  possible,  was 
Senator  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  who  had  been  his 
neighbor  in  Illinois  for  many  years. 

The  second  was  deeper.  He  realized  that  the 
struggle  meant  much  more  than  the  freedom  or 
bondage  of  a  few  million  black  men:  that  it  was 
in  reality  a  struggle  for  the  central  idea  of  our 
American  republic — the  statement  in  our  Declar- 
ation of  Independence  that  "all  men  are  created 
equal."  He  made  no  public  speeches  until  autumn, 
but  in  the  meantime  studied  the  question  with 
great  care,  both  as  to  its  past  history  and  present 
state.  When  he  did  speak  it  was  with  a  force  and 
power  that  startled  Douglas  and,  it  is  said, 
brought  him  privately  to  Lincoln  with  the  propo- 
sition that  neither  of  them  should  address  a  public 
meeting  again  until  after  the  next  election. 

Douglas  was  a  man  of  great  ambition  as  well 
as  of  unusual  political  skill.     Until  recently  he 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  103 

had  been  heartily  in  favor  of  keeping-  slavery  out 
of  the  Northwest  Territory;  but  he  had  set  his 
heart  upon  being  President  of  the  United  States, 
and  he  thought  that  he  saw  a  chance  of  this  if 
he  helped  the  South  to  repeal  the  Missouri  Com- 
promise, and  thus  gained  its  gratitude  and  its 
votes.  Without  hesitation  he  plunged  into  the 
work  and  labored  successfully  to  overthrow  this 
law  of  more  than  thirty  years'  standing. 

Lincoln's  speech  against  the  repeal  had  made 
a  deep  impression  in  Illinois,  where  he  was  at 
once  recognized  as  the  people's  spokesman  in  the 
cause  of  freedom.  His  statements  were  so  clear, 
his  language  so  eloquent,  the  stand  he  took  so 
just,  that  all  had  to  acknowledge  his  power.  He 
did  not  then,  nor  for  many  years  afterward,  say 
that  the  slaves  ought  to  be  immediately  set  free. 
What  he  did  insist  upon  was  that  slavery  was 
wrong,  and  that  it  must  not  be  allowed  to  spread 
into  territory  already  free;  but  that,  gradually, 
in  ways  lawful  and  just  to  masters  and  slaves 
alike,  the  country  should  strive  to  get  rid  of  it 
in  places  where  it  already  existed.  He  never  let 
his  hearers  lose  sight  of  the  great  underlying 
moral  fact.  "Slavery,"  he  said,  "is  founded  in 
the  selfishness  of  man's  nature;  opposition  to  it 
in  his  love  of  justice."  Even  Senator  Douglas 
was  not  prepared  to  admit  that  slavery  was  right. 


104  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

He  knew  that  if  he  said  that  he  could  never  be 
President,  for  the  whole  North  would  rise  against 
him.  He  wished  to  please  both  sides,  so  he  ar- 
gued that  it  was  not  a  question  for  him  or  for  the 
Federal  Government  to  decide,  but  one  which 
each  State  and  Territory  must  settle  for  itself. 
In  answer  to  this  plea  of  his  that  it  was  not  a 
matter  of  morals,  but  of  "State  rights" — a  mere 
matter  of  local  self-government— Mr.  Lincoln 
replied,  "When  the  white  man  governs  himself 
that  is  self-government;  but  when  he  governs 
himself  and  also  governs  another  man,  that  is 
more  than  self-government — that  is  despotism." 
It  was  on  these  opposing  grounds  that  the 
two  men  took  their  stand  for  the  battle  of  argu- 
ment and  principle  that  was  to  continue  for  years, 
to  outgrow  the  bounds  of  the  State,  to  focus 
the  attention  of  the  whole  country  upon  them, 
and,  in  the  end,  to  have  far-reaching  consequences 
of  which  neither  at  that  time  dreamed.  At  first 
the  field  appeared  much  narrower,  though  even 
then  the  reward  was  a  large  one.  Lincoln  had 
entered  the  contest  with  no  thought  of  political 
gain;  but  it  happened  that  a  new  United  States 
senator  from  Illinois  had  to  be  chosen  about  that 
time.  Senators  are  not  voted  for  by  the  people, 
but  by  the  legislatures  of  their  respective  States, 
and  as  a  first  result  of  all  this  discussion  about 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  105 

the  right  or  wrong  of  slavery  it  was  found  that 
the  Illinois  legislature,  instead  of  having  its  usual 
large  Democratic  majority,  was  almost  evenly 
divided.  Lincoln  seemed  the  most  likely  candi- 
date ;  and  he  would  have  undoubtedly  been  chosen 
senator,  had  not  five  men,  whose  votes  were  abso- 
lutely necessary,  stoutly  refused  to  vote  for  a 
Whig,  no  matter  what  his  views  upon  slavery 
might  be.  Keeping  stubbornly  aloof,  they  cast 
their  ballots  time  after  time  for  Lyman  Trumbull, 
who  was  a  Democrat,  although  as  strongly  op- 
posed to  slavery  as  Lincoln  himself. 

A  term  of  six  years  in  the  United  States 
Senate  must  have  seemed  a  large  prize  to  Lin- 
coln just  then — possibly  the  largest  he  might  ever 
hope  to  gain ;  and  it  must  have  been  a  hard  trial 
to  feel  it  so  near  and  then  see  it  slipping  away 
from  him.  He  did  what  few  men  would  have 
had  the  courage  or  the  unselfishness  to  do.  Put- 
ting aside  all  personal  considerations,  and  intent 
only  on  making  sure  of  an  added  vote  against 
slavery  in  the  Senate,  he  begged  his  friends  to 
cease  voting  for  him  and  to  unite  with  those  five 
Democrats  to  elect  Trumbull. 

"I  regret  my  defeat  moderately,"  he  wrote  to 
a  sympathizing  friend,  "but  I  am  not  nervous 
about  it."  Yet  it  must  have  been  particularly 
trying  to  know  that  with  forty-five  votes  in  his 


106  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

favor,  and  only  five  men  standing  between  him 
and  success,  he  had  been  forced  to  give  up  his 
own  chances  and  help  elect  the  very  man  who 
had  defeated  him. 

The  voters  of  Illinois  were  quick  to  realize  the 
sacrifice  he  had  made.  The  five  stubborn  men 
became  his  most  devoted  personal  followers ;  and 
his  action  at  this  time  did  much  to  bring  about 
a  great  political  change  in  the  State.  All  over 
the  country  old  party  lines  were  beginning  to 
break  up  and  re-form  themselves  on  this  one  ques- 
tion of  slavery.  Keeping  its  old  name,  the  Demo- 
cratic party  became  the  party  in  favor  of  slavery, 
while  the  Northern  Whigs  and  all  those  Demo- 
crats who  objected  to  slavery  joined  in 
what  became  known  as  the  Republican  party. 
It  was  at  a  great  mass  convention  held 
in  Bloomington  in  May,  1856,  that  the 
Republican  party  of  Illinois  took  final  shape; 
and  it  was  here  that  Lincoln  made  the  won- 
derful address  which  has  become  famous  in 
party  history  as  his  "lost  speech."  There  had 
been  much  enthusiasm.  Favorite  speakers  had 
already  made  stirring  addresses  that  had  been 
listened  to  with  eagerness  and  heartily  applauded ; 
but  hardly  a  man  moved  from  his  seat  until  Lin- 
coln should  be  heard.  It  was  he  who  had  given 
up  the  chance  of  being  senator  to  help  on  the 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  107 

cause  of  freedom.  He  alone  had  successfully 
answered  Douglas.  Every  one  felt  the  fitness 
of  his  making  the  closing  speech — and  right  nobly 
did  he  honor  the  demand.  The  spell  of  the  hour 
was  visibly  upon  him.  Standing  upon  the  plat- 
form before  the  members  of  the  convention,  his 
tall  figure  drawn  up  to  its  full  height,  his  head 
thrown  back,  and  his  voice  ringing  with  earnest- 
ness, he  denounced  the  evil  they  had  to  fight  in  a 
speech  whose  force  and  power  carried  his  hearers 
by  storm,  ending  with  a  brilliant  appeal  to  all 
who  loved  liberty  and  justice  to 

Come  as  the  winds  come  when  forests  are  rended ; 
Come  as  the  waves  come  when  navies  are  stranded  ; 

and  unite  with  the  Republican  party  against  this 
great  wrong. 

The  audience  rose  and  answered  him  with 
cheer  upon  cheer.  Then,  after  the  excitement 
had  died  down,  it  was  found  that  neither  a  full 
report  nor  even  trustworthy  notes  of  his  speech 
had  been  taken.  The  sweep  and  magnetism  of 
his  oratory  had  carried  everything  before  it — 
even  the  reporters  had  forgotten  their  duty,  and 
their  pencils  had  fallen  idle.  So  it  happened  that 
the  speech  as  a  whole  was  lost.  Mr.  Lincoln 
himself  could  never  recall  what  he  had  said;  but 


108  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

the  hundreds  who  heard  him  never  forgot  the 
scene  or  the  lifting  inspiration  of  his  words. 

Three  weeks  later  the  first  national  conven- 
tion of  the  Republican  party  was  held.  John 
C  Fremont  was  nominated  for  President,  and 
Lincoln  received  over  a  hundred  votes  for  Vice- 
President,  but  fortunately,  as  it  proved,  was  not 
selected,  the  honor  falling  to  William  L.  Dayton 
of  New  Jersey.  The  Democratic  candidate  for 
President  that  year  was  James  Buchanan,  "a 
Northern  man  with  Southern  principles,"  very 
strongly  in  favor  of  slavery.  Lincoln  took  an 
active  part  in  the  campaign  against  him,  making 
more  than  fifty  speeches  in  Illinois  and  the  ad- 
joining States.  The  Democrats  triumphed,  and 
Buchanan  was  elected  President;  but  Lincoln 
was  not  discouraged,  for  the  new  Republican 
party  had  shown  unexpected  strength  through- 
out the  North.  Indeed,  Lincoln  was  seldom 
discouraged.  He  had  an  abiding  faith  that 
the  people  would  in  the  long  run  vote  wisely ;  and 
the  cheerful  hope  he  was  able  to  inspire  in  his 
followers  was  always  a  strong  point  in  his  leader- 
ship. 

In  1858,  two  years  after  this,  another  election 
took  place  in  Illinois,  on  which  the  choice  of  a 
United  States  senator  depended.  This  time  it 
was  the  term  of  Stephen  A.  Douglas  that 
was   drawing  to   a   close.      He   greatly   desired 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  109 

reelection.  There  was  but  one  man  in  the  State 
who  could  hope  to  rival  him,  and  with  a  single 
voice  the  Republicans  of  Illinois  called  upon  Lin- 
coln to  oppose  him.  Douglas  was  indeed  an 
opponent  not  to  be  despised.  His  friends  and 
followers  called  him  the  "Little  Giant."  He 
was  plausible,  popular,  quick-witted,  had  win- 
ning manners,  was  most  skilful  in  the  use  of 
words,  both  to  convince  his  hearers  and,  at 
times,  to  hide  his  real  meaning.  He  and  Lincoln 
were  old  antagonists.  They  had  first  met  in  the 
far-away  Vandalia  days  of  the  Illinois  legislature. 
In  Springfield,  Douglas  had  been  the  leader  of 
the  young  Democrats,  while  Lincoln  had  been 
leader  of  the  younger  Whigs.  Their  rivalry  had 
not  always  been  confined  to  politics,  for  gossip 
asserted  that  Douglas  had  been  one  of  Miss 
Todd's  more  favored  suitors.  Douglas  in  those 
days  had  no  great  opinion  of  the  tall  young 
lawyer;  while  Lincoln  is  said  to  have  described 
Douglas  as  "the  least  man  I  ever  saw"— although 
that  referred  to  his  rival's  small  stature  and 
boyish  figure,  not  to  his  mental  qualities.  Doug- 
las was  not  only  ambitious  to  be  President:  he 
had  staked  everything  on  the  repeal  of  the  Mis- 
souri Compromise  and  his  statement  that  this 
question  of  slavery  was  one  that  every  State  and 
Territory  must  settle  for  itself,  but  with  which 
the  Federal  Government  had  nothing  to  do.    Un- 


no  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

fortunately,  his  own  party  no  longer  agreed  with 
him.  Since  Buchanan  had  become  President 
the  Democrats  had  advanced  their  ground.  They 
now  claimed  that  while  a  State  might  properly 
say  whether  or  not  it  would  tolerate  slavery, 
slavery  ought  to  be  lawful  in  all  the  Territories, 
no  matter  whether  their  people  liked  it  or  not. 

A  famous  law  case,  called  the  Dred  Scott  case, 
lately  decided  by  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States,  went  far  toward  making  this  really  the 
law  of  the  land.  In  its  decision  the  court  posi- 
tively stated  that  neither  Congress  nor  a  terri- 
torial legislature  had  power  to  keep  slavery  out 
of  any  United  States  Territory.  This  decision 
placed  Senator  Douglas  in  a  most  curious  posi- 
tion. It  justified  him  in  repealing  the  Missouri 
Compromise,  but  at  the  same  time  it  absolutely 
denied  his  statement  that  the  people  of  a  Terri- 
tory had  a  right  to  settle  the  slavery  question  to 
suit  themselves.  Being  a  clever  juggler  with 
words,  he  explained  away  the  difference  by  say- 
ing that  a  master  might  have  a  perfect  right  to 
his  slave  in  a  Territory,  and  yet  that  right  could 
do  him  no  good  unless  it  were  protected  by  laws 
in  force  where  his  slave  happened  to  be.  Such 
laws  depended  entirely  on  the  will  of  the  people 
living  in  the  Territory,  and  so,  after  all,  they 
had  the  deciding  voice.    This  reasoning  brought 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  in 

upon  him  the  displeasure  of  President  Buchanan 
and  all  the  Democrats  who  believed  as  he  did, 
and  Douglas  found  himself  forced  either  to  deny 
what  he  had  already  told  the  voters  of  Illinois, 
or  to  begin  a  quarrel  with  the  President.  He 
chose  the  latter,  well  knowing  that  to  lose  his 
reelection  to  the  Senate  at  this  time  would  end 
his  political  career.  His  fame  as  well  as  his 
quarrel  with  the  President  served  to  draw  im- 
mense crowds  to  his  meetings  when  he  returned 
to  Illinois  and  began  speech-making,  and  his  fol- 
lowers so  inspired  these  meetings  with  their 
enthusiasm  that  for  a  time  it  seemed  as  though 
all  real  discussion  would  be  swallowed  up  in  noise 
and  shouting. 

Mr.  Lincoln,  acting  on  the  advice  of  his  lead- 
ing friends,  sent  Douglas  a  challenge  to  joint 
debate.  Douglas  accepted,  though  not  very 
willingly ;  and  it  was  agreed  that  they  should  ad- 
dress the  same  meetings  at  seven  towns  in  the 
State,  on  dates  extending  through  August,  Sep- 
tember, and  October.  The  terms  were  that  one 
should  speak  an  hour  in  opening,  the  other  an 
hour  and  a  half  in  reply,  and  the  first  again  have 
half  an  hour  to  close.  Douglas  was  to  open  the 
meeting  at  one  place,  Lincoln  at  the  next. 

It  was  indeed  a  memorable  contest  Douglas, 
the  most   skilled   and  plausible   speaker   in  the 


ii2  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

Democratic  party,  was  battling  for  his  political 
life.  He  used  every  art,  every  resource,  at  his 
command.  Opposed  to  him  was  a  veritable  giant 
in  stature — a  man  whose  qualities  of  mind  and 
of  body  were  as  different  from  those  of  the  "Little 
Giant"  as  could  well  be  imagined.  Lincoln  was 
direct,  forceful,  logical,  and  filled  with  a  purpose 
as  lofty  as  his  sense  of  right  and  justice  was 
strong.  He  cared  much  for  the  senatorship,  but 
he  cared  far  more  to  right  the  wrong  of  slavery, 
and  to  warn  people  of  the  peril  that  menaced  the 
land.  Already  in  June  he  had  made  a  speech  that 
greatly  impressed  his  hearers.  "  'A  house  divided 
against  itself  cannot  stand,'  "  he  told  them.  "I 
believe  this  government  cannot  endure  perma- 
nently half  slave  and  half  free.  I  do  not  expect 
the  Union  to  be  dissolved,  I  do  not  expect  the 
house  to  fall — but  I  do  expect  it  will  cease  to  be 
divided.  It  will  become  all  one  thing  or  all  the 
other" ;  and  he  went  on  to  say  that  there  was 
grave  danger  it  might  become  all  slave.  He 
showed  how,  little  by  little,  slavery  had  been 
gaining  ground,  until  all  it  lacked  now  was  an- 
other Supreme  Court  decision  to  make  it  alike 
lawful  in  all  the  States,  North  as  well  as  South. 
The  warning  came  home  to  the  people  of  the 
North  with  startling  force,  and  thereafter  all  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  senatorial  campaign  in 
Illinois. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  113 

The  battle  continued  for  nearly  three  months. 
Besides  the  seven  great  joint  debates,  each  man 
spoke  daily,  sometimes  two  or  three  times 
a  day,  at  meetings  of  his  own.  Once  before 
their  audiences,  Douglas's  dignity  as  a  senator 
afforded  him  no  advantage,  Lincoln's  popularity 
gave  him  little  help.  Face  to  face  with  the  fol- 
lowers of  each,  gathered  in  immense  numbers 
and  alert  with  jealous  watchfulness,  there  was 
no  escaping  the  rigid  test  of  skill  in  argument 
and  truth  in  principle.  The  processions  and  ban- 
ners, the  music  and  fireworks,  of  both  parties 
were  stilled  and  forgotten  while  the  people 
listened  to  the  three  hours'  battle  of  mind  against 
mind. 

Northern  Illinois  had  been  peopled  largely 
from  the  free  States,  and  southern  Illinois  from 
the  slave  States;  thus  the  feeling  about  slavery 
in  the  two  parts  was  very  different.  To  take 
advantage  of  this,  Douglas,  in  the  very  first  de- 
bate, which  took  place  at  Ottawa,  in  northern 
Illinois,  asked  Lincoln  seven  questions,  hoping 
to  make  him  answer  in  a  way  that  would  be  un- 
popular farther  south.  In  the  second  debate 
Lincoln  replied  to  these  very  frankly,  and  in  his 
turn  asked  Douglas  four  questions,  the  second 
of  which  was  whether,  in  Douglas's  opinion,  the 
people  of  any  Territory  could,  in  any  lawful  way, 
against  the  wish  of  any  citizen  of  the  United 


ii4  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

States,  bar  out  slavery  before  that  Territory  be- 
came a  State.  Mr.  Lincoln  had  long  and  care- 
fully studied  the  meaning  and  effect  of  this 
question.  If  Douglas  said,  "No,"  he  would  pleast 
Buchanan  and  the  administration  Democrats,  but 
at  the  cost  of  denying  his  own  words.  If  he  said, 
"Yes,"  he  would  make  enemies  of  every  Demo- 
crat in  the  South.  Lincoln's  friends  all  advised 
against  asking  the  question.  They  felt  sure  that 
Douglas  would  answer,  "Yes,"  and  that  this 
would  win  him  his  election.  "If  you  ask  it,  you 
can  never  be  senator,"  they  told  Lincoln.  "Gen- 
tlemen," he  replied,  "I  am  killing  larger  game. 
If  Douglas  answers  he  can  never  be  President, 
and  the  battle  of  i860  is  worth  a  hundred  of  this." 

Both  prophecies  were  fulfilled.  Douglas  an- 
swered as  was  expected;  and  though,  in  actual 
numbers,  the  Republicans  of  Illinois  cast  more 
votes  than  the  Democrats,  a  legislature  was 
chosen  that  reelected  him  to  the  Senate.  Two 
years  later,  Lincoln,  who  in  1858  had  not  the 
remotest  dream  of  such  a  thing,  found  himself 
the  successful  candidate  of  the  Republican  party 
for  President  of  the  United  States. 

To  see  how  little  Lincoln  expected  such  an 
outcome  it  is  only  necessary  to  glance  at  the 
letters  he  wrote  to  friends  at  the  end  of  his  cam- 
paign against  Douglas.    Referring  to  the  election 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  115 

to  be  held  two  years  later,  he  said,  "In  that  day 
I  shall  fight  in  the  ranks,  but  I  shall  be  in  no 
one's  way  for  any  of  the  places."  To  another 
correspondent  he  expressed  himself  even  more 
frankly:  "Of  course  I  wished,  but  I  did  not  much 
expect,  a  better  result.  ...  I  am  glad  I  made 
the  late  race.  It  gave  me  a  hearing  on  the  great 
and  durable  question  of  the  age,  which  I  could 
have  had  in  no  other  way ;  and  though  I  now  sink 
out  of  view  and  shall  be  forgotten,  I  believe  I 
have  made  some  marks  which  will  tell  for  the 
cause  of  civil  liberty  long  after  I  am  gone." 

But  he  was  not  to  "sink  out  of  view  and  be 
forgotten."  Douglas  himself  contributed  not  a 
little  toward  keeping  his  name  before  the  public; 
for  shortly  after  their  contest  was  ended  the 
reelected  senator  started  on  a  trip  through  the 
South  to  set  himself  right  again  with  the  South- 
ern voters,  and  in  every  speech  that  he  made  he 
referred  to  Lincoln  as  the  champion  of  "aboli- 
tionism." In  this  way  the  people  were  not  allowed 
to  forget  the  stand  Lincoln  had  taken,  and  during 
the  year  1859  they  came  to  look  upon  him  as  the 
one  man  who  could  be  relied  on  at  all  times  to 
answer  Douglas  and  Douglas's  arguments. 

In  the  autumn  of  that  year  Lincoln  was  asked 
to  speak  in  Ohio,  where  Douglas  was  again  re- 
ferring to  him  by  name.     In  December  he  was 


n6  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

invited  to  address  meetings  in  various  towns  in 
Kansas,  and  early  in  i860  he  made  a  speech 
in  New  York  that  raised  him  suddenly  and  un- 
questionably to  the  position  of  a  national  leader. 

It  was  delivered  in  the  hall  of  Cooper  Institute, 
on  the  evening  of  February  27,  i860,  before  an 
audience  of  men  and  women  remarkable  for  their 
culture,  wealth  and  influence. 

Mr.  Lincoln's  name  and  words  had  filled  so 
large  a  space  in  the  Eastern  newspapers  of 
late,  that  his  listeners  were  very  eager  to  see 
and  hear  this  rising  Western  politician.  The 
West,  even  at  that  late  day,  was  very  imperfectly 
understood  by  the  East.  It  was  looked  upon  as 
a  land  of  bowie-knives  and  pistols,  of  steamboat 
explosions,  of  mobs,  of  wild  speculation  and 
wilder  adventure.  What,  then,  would  be  the 
type,  the  character,  the  language  of  this  speaker  ? 
How  would  he  impress  the  great  editor  Horace 
Greeley,  who  sat  among  the  invited  guests ;  David 
Dudley  Field,  the  great  lawyer,  who  escorted  him 
to  the  platform ;  William  Cullen  Bryant,  the  great 
poet,  who  presided  over  the  meeting? 

The  audience  quickly  forgot  these  questioning 
doubts.  They  had  but  time  to  note  Mr.  Lincoln's 
unusual  height,  his  rugged,  strongly  marked  fea- 
tures, the  clear  ring  of  his  high-pitched  voice,  the 
commanding  earnestness  of  his  manner.     Then 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  117 

they  became  completely  absorbed  in  what  he  was 
saying.  He  began  quietly,  soberly,  almost  as  if 
he  were  arguing  a  case  before  a  court.  In  his 
entire  address  he  uttered  neither  an  anecdote  nor 
a  jest.  If  any  of  his  hearers  came  expecting  the 
style  or  manner  of  the  Western  stump-speaker, 
they  met  novelty  of  an  unlooked-for  kind;  for 
such  was  the  apt  choice  of  words,  the  simple 
strength  of  his  reasoning,  the  fairness  of  every 
point  he  made,  the  force  of  every  conclusion 
he  drew,  that  his  listeners  followed  him,  spell- 
bound. He  spoke  on  the  subject  that  he  had  so 
thoroughly  mastered  and  that  was  now  upper- 
most in  men's  minds — the  right  or  wrong  of 
slavery.  He  laid  bare  the  complaints  and  de- 
mands of  the  Southern  leaders,  pointed  out  the 
injustice  of  their  threat  to  break  up  the  Union  if 
their  claims  were  not  granted,  stated  forcibly 
the  stand  taken  by  the  Republican  party,  and 
brought  his  speech  to  a  close  with  the  short  and 
telling  appeal: 

"Let  us  have  faith  that  right  makes  might, 
and  in  that  faith  let  us,  to  the  end,  dare  to  do 
our  duty  as  we  understand  it." 

The  attention  with  which  it  was  followed,  the 
applause  that  greeted  its  telling  points,  and  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  Republican  journals  next  morn- 
ing   showed    that    Lincoln's    Cooper    Institute 


n8  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

speech  had  taken  New  York  by  storm.  It  was 
printed  in  full  in  four  of  the  leading  daily  papers 
of  the  city,  and  immediately  reprinted  in  pamphlet 
form.  From  New  York  Mr.  Lincoln  made  a  tour 
of  speech-making  through  several  of  the  New 
England  States,  where  he  was  given  a  hearty 
welcome,  and  listened  to  with  an  eagerness 
that  showed  a  marked  result  at  the  spring  elec- 
tions. The  interest  of  the  working-men  who 
heard  these  addresses  was  equaled,  perhaps  ex- 
celled, by  the  pleased  surprise  of  college  pro- 
fessors and  men  of  letters  when  they  found  that 
the  style  and  method  of  this  self-taught  popular 
Western  orator  would  stand  the  test  of  their  most 
searching  professional  criticism. 

One  other  audience  he  had  during  this  trip, 
if  we  may  trust  report,  which,  while  neither  as 
learned  as  the  college  professors,  nor  perhaps 
as  critical  as  the  factory-men,  was  quite  as  hard 
to  please,  and  the  winning  of  whose  approval 
shows  another  side  of  this  great  and  many-sided 
man.  A  teacher  in  a  Sunday-school  in  the  Five 
Points  district  of  New  York,  at  that  time  one 
of  the  worst  parts  of  the  city,  has  told  how,  one 
morning,  a  tall,  thin,  unusual-looking  man  en- 
tered and  sat  quietly  listening  to  the  exercises, 
His  face  showed  such  genuine  interest  that  he 
was  asked  if  he  would  like  to  speak  to  the  children. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  119 

Accepting  the  invitation  with  evident  pleasure, 
he  stepped  forward  and  began  a  simple  address 
that  quickly  charmed  the  roomful  of  youngsters 
into  silence.  His  language  was  singularly  beau- 
tiful, his  voice  musical  with  deep  feeling.  The 
faces  of  his  little  listeners  drooped  into  sad  ear- 
nestness at  his  words  of  warning,  and  brightened 
again  when  he  spoke  of  cheerful  promises.  "Go 
on!  Oh,  do  go  on!"  they  begged  when  at  last 
he  tried  to  stop.  As  he  left  the  room  somebody 
asked  his  name.  "Abraham  Lincoln,  from  Illi- 
nois," was  the  courteous  reply. 


VI 

THE  NEW  PRESIDENT 

LINCOLN'S  great  skill  and  wisdom  in  his 
j  debate  with  Douglas  turned  the  eyes  of 
the  whole  country  upon  him;  and  the  force  and 
logic  of  his  Cooper  Institute  speech  convinced 
every  one  that  in  him  they  had  discovered  a  new 
national  leader.  He  began  to  be  mentioned  as  a 
possible  candidate  for  President  in  the  election 
which  was  to  take  place  that  fall  to  choose  a  suc- 
cessor to  President  Buchanan.  Indeed,  quite  a 
year  earlier,  an  editor  in  Illinois  had  written  to 
him  asking  permission  to  announce  him  as  a  can- 
didate in  his  newspaper.  At  that  time  Lincoln 
had  refused,  thanking  him  for  the  compliment, 
but  adding  modestly :  "I  must  in  candor  say  that 
I  do  not  think  myself  fit  for  the  Presidency." 
About  Christmas  time,  1859,  however,  a  num- 
ber of  his  stanchest  Illinois  friends  urged  him 
to  let  them  use  his  name,  and  he  consented, 
not  so  much  in  the  hope  of  being  chosen,  as  of 
perhaps    receiving    the    nomination    for    Vice- 

120 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  121 

President,  or  at  least  of  making  a  show  of 
strength  that  would  aid  him  at  some  future  time 
to  become  senator.  The  man  most  talked  about 
as  the  probable  Republican  candidate  for  Presi- 
dent was  William  H.  Seward,  who  was  United 
States  senator  from  New  York,  and  had  also  been 
governor  of  that  State. 

The  political  unrest  continued.  Slavery  was 
still  the  most  absorbing  topic,  and  it  was  upon 
their  stand  for  or  against  slavery  that  all  the 
Presidential  candidates  were  chosen.  The  pre- 
tensions and  demands  of  the  Southern  leaders 
had  by  this  time  passed  into  threats.  They 
declared  roundly  that  they  would  take  their 
States  out  of  the  Union  if  slavery  were  not 
quickly  made  lawful  all  over  the  country,  or  in 
case  a  "Black  Republican"  President  should  be 
elected.  The  Democrats,  unable  to  agree  among 
themselves,  split  into  two  sections,  the  North- 
erners nominating  Stephen  A.  Douglas  for  Presi- 
dent, while  delegates  who  had  come  to  their 
National  Convention  from  what  were  called  the 
Cotton  States  chose  John  C.  Breckinridge.  A 
few  men  who  had  belonged  to  the  old  Whig 
party,  but  felt  themselves  unable  to  join  the 
Republicans  or  either  faction  of  the  Democrats, 
met  elsewhere  and  nominated  John  Bell. 

This  breaking  up  of  their  political  enemies  into 


122  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

three  distinct  camps  greatly  cheered  the  Repub- 
licans, and  when  their  National  Convention  came 
together  in  Chicago  on  May  16,  i860,  its  mem- 
bers were  filled  with  the  most  eager  enthusiasm. 
Its  meetings  were  held  in  a  huge  temporary 
wooden  building  called  the  Wigwam,  so  large 
that  10,000  people  could  easily  assemble  in  it  to 
watch  the  proceedings.  Few  conventions  have 
shown  such  depth  of  feeling.  Not  only  the  dele- 
gates on  the  central  platform,  but  even  the  spec- 
tators seemed  impressed  with  the  fact  that  they 
were  taking  part  in  a  great  historical  event.  The 
first  two  days  were  taken  up  in  seating  delegates, 
adopting  a  "platform"  or  statement  of  party 
principles,  and  in  other  necessary  routine  matters. 
On  the  third  day,  however,  it  was  certain  that 
balloting  would  begin,  and  crowds  hurried  to  the 
Wigwam  in  a  fever  of  curiosity.  The  New  York 
men,  sure  that  Seward  would  be  the  choice  of  the 
convention,  marched  there  in  a  body,  with  music 
and  banners.  The  friends  of  Lincoln  arrived 
before  them,  and  while  not  making  so  much  noise 
or  show,  were  doing  good  work  for  their  favorite. 
The  long  nominating  speeches  of  later  years  had 
not  then  come  into  fashion.  "I  take  the  liberty," 
simply  said  Mr.  Evarts  of  New  York,  "to  name 
as  a  candidate  to  be  nominated  by  this  convention 
for  the  office  of  President  of  the  United  States. 


124  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

William  H.  Seward,"  and  at  Mr.  Seward's  name 
a  burst  of  applause  broke  forth,  so  long  and  loud 
that  it  seemed  fairly  to  shake  the  great  building. 
Mr.  Judd,  of  Illinois,  performed  the  same  office  of 
friendship  for  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  the  tremendous 
cheering  that  rose  from  the  throats  of  his  friends 
echoed  and  dashed  itself  against  the  sides  of  the 
Wigwam,  died  down,  and  began  anew,  until  the 
noise  that  had  been  made  by  Seward's  admirers 
dwindled  to  comparative  feebleness.  Again  and 
again  these  contests  of  lungs  and  enthusiasm 
were  repeated  as  other  names  were  presented  to 
the  convention. 

At  last  the  voting  began.  Two  names  stood 
out  beyond  all  the  rest  on  the  very  first  ballot — 
Seward's  and  Lincoln's.  The  second  ballot 
showed  that  Seward  had  lost  votes  while  Lincoln 
had  gained  them.  The  third  ballot  was  begun  in 
almost  painful  suspense,  delegates  and  spectators 
keeping  count  upon  their  tally-sheets  with  ner- 
vous fingers.  It  was  found  that  Lincoln  had 
gained  still  more,  and  now  only  needed  one  and 
a  half  votes  to  receive  the  nomination.  Suddenly 
the  Wigwam  became  as  still  as  a  church.  Every- 
body leaned  forward  to  see  who  would  break  the 
spell.  A  man  sprang  upon  a  chair  and  reported 
a  change  of  four  votes  to  Lincoln.  Then  a  teller 
shouted  a  name  toward  the  skylight,   and  the 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  125 

boom  of  a  cannon  from  the  roof  announced  the 
nomination  and  started  the  cheering  down  the 
long  Chicago  streets;  while  inside  delegation 
after  delegation  changed  its  votes  to  the  victor 
in  a  whirlwind  of  hurrahs.  That  same  afternoon 
the  convention  finished  its  labors  by  nominating 
Hannibal  Hamlin  of  Maine  for  Vice-President, 
and  adjourned — the  delegates,  speeding  home- 
ward on  the  night  trains,  realizing  by  the  bonfires 
and  cheering  crowds  at  every  little  station  that 
a  memorable  Presidential  campaign  was  already 
begun. 

During  this  campaign  there  were,  then,  four 
Presidential  candidates  in  the  field.  In  the  order 
of  strength  shown  at  the  election  they  were: 

1.  The  Republican  party,  whose  "platform," 
or  statement  of  party  principles,  declared  that 
slavery  was  wrong,  and  that  its  further  spread 
should  be  prevented.  Its  candidates  were  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  of  Illinois  for  President,  and  Hanni- 
bal Hamlin  of  Maine  for  Vice-President. 

2.  The  Douglas  wing  of  the  Democratic  party, 
which  declared  that  it  did  not  pretend  to  decide 
whether  slavery  was  right  or  wrong,  and  pro- 
posed to  allow  the  people  of  each  State  and  Terri- 
tory to  choose  for  themselves  whether  they  would 
or  would  not  have  it.  Its  candidates  were  Stephen 
A.  Douglas  of  Illinois  for  President,  and  Her- 


126  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

schel  V.  Johnson  of  Georgia  for  Vice-President. 

3.  The  Buchanan  wing  of  the  Democratic 
party,  which  declared  that  slavery  was  right,  and 
whose  policy  was  to  extend  it,  and  to  make  new 
slave  States.  Its  candidates  were  John  C.  Breck- 
inridge of  Kentucky  for  President,  and  Joseph 
Lane  of  Oregon  for  Vice-President. 

4.  The  Constitutional  Union  party,  which 
ignored  slavery  in  its  platform,  declaring  that  it 
recognized  no  political  principles  other  than  "the 
Constitution  of  the  country,  the  Union  of  the 
States,  and  the  enforcement  of  the  laws."  Its 
candidates  were  John  Bell  of  Tennessee  for  Presi- 
dent, and  Edward  Everett  of  Massachusetts  for 
Vice-President. 

In  enthusiasm  the  Republicans  quickly  took  the 
lead.  "Wide  Awake"  clubs  of  young  men,  wear- 
ing caps  and  capes  of  glazed  oilcloth  to  protect 
their  clothing  from  the  dripping  oil  of  their 
torches,  gathered  in  torchlight  processions  miles 
in  length.  Fence  rails,  supposed  to  have  been 
made  by  Lincoln  in  his  youth,  were  set  up  in 
party  headquarters  and  trimmed  with  flowers  and 
lighted  tapers.  Lincoln  was  called  the  "Rail- 
splitter  Candidate,"  and  this  telling  name,  added 
to  the  equally  telling  "Honest  Old  Abe,"  by  which 
he  had  long  been  known  in  Illinois,  furnished 
country  and  city  campaign  orators  with  a  power- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  127 

ful  appeal  to  the  sympathy  and  trust  of  the  work- 
ing-people of  the  United  States.  Men  and  women 
read  in  newspaper  and  pamphlet  biographies  the 
story  of  his  humble  beginnings :  how  he  had  risen 
by  simple,  earnest  work  and  native  genius,  first 
to  fame  and  leadership  in  his  own  State,  and  then 
to  fame  and  leadership  in  the  nation;  and  these 
titles  quickly  grew  to  be  much  more  than  mere 
party  nicknames — to  stand  for  a  faith  and  trust 
destined  to  play  no  small  part  in  the  history  of  the 
next  few  years. 

After  the  nominations  were  made  Douglas 
went  on  a  tour  of  speech-making  through  the 
South.  Lincoln,  on  the  contrary,  stayed  quietly 
at  home  in  Springfield.  His  personal  habits  and 
surroundings  varied  little  during  the  whole  of 
this  campaign  summer.  Naturally  he  gave  up 
active  law  practice,  leaving  his  office  in  charge 
of  his  partner,  William  H.  Herndon.  He  spent 
the  time  during  the  usual  business  hours  of  each 
day  in  the  governor's  room  of  the  State-house 
at  Springfield,  attended  only  by  his  private  secre- 
tary, Mr.  Nicolay.  Friends  and  strangers  alike 
were  able  to  visit  him  freely  and  without  cere- 
mony, and  few  went  away  without  being  im- 
pressed by  the  sincere  frankness  of  his  manner 
and  conversation. 

All  sorts  of  people  came  to  see  him :  those  from 


128  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

far-away  States,  East  and  West,  as  well  as  those 
from  nearer  home.  Politicians  came  to  ask  him 
for  future  favors,  and  many  whose  only  motives 
were  friendliness  or  curiosity  called  to  express 
their  good  wishes  and  take  the  Republican  can- 
didate by  the  hand. 

He  wrote  no  public  letters,  and  he  made  no 
speeches  beyond  a  few  words  of  thanks  and  greet- 
ing- to  passing  street  parades.  Even  the  strictly 
private  letters  in  which  he  gave  his  advice  on 
points  in  the  campaign  were  not  more  than  a 
dozen  in  number;  but  all  through  the  long  sum- 
mer, while  welcoming  his  throngs  of  visitors,  lis- 
tening to  the  tales  of  old  settlers,  making  friends 
of  strangers,  and  binding  old  friends  closer  by  his 
ready  sympathy,  Mr.  Lincoln  watched  political 
developments  very  closely,  not  merely  to  note 
the  progress  of  his  own  chances,  but  with  an  anx- 
ious view  to  the  future  in  case  he  should  be 
elected.  Beyond  the  ever-changing  circle  of 
friendly  faces  near  him  he  saw  the  growing  unrest 
and  anger  of  the  South,  and  doubtless  felt  the 
uncertainty  of  many  good  people  in  the  North, 
who  questioned  the  power  of  this  untried  West- 
ern man  to  guide  the  country  through  the  coming 
perils. 

Never  over-confident  of  his  own  powers,  his 
mind  must  at  times  have  been  full  of  misgivings ; 


IN    THE   TELEGRAPH    OFFICE    AT    SPRINGFIEJ 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  131 

but  it  was  only  on  the  night  of  the  election,  Nov- 
ember 6,  i860,  when,  sitting  alone  with  the  oper- 
ators in  the  little  telegraph-office  at  Springfield, 
he  read  the  messages  of  Republican  victory  that 
fell  from  the  wires  until  convinced  of  his  election, 
that  the  overwhelming,  almost  crushing  weight 
of  his  coming  duties  and  responsibilities  fell  upon 
him.  In  that  hour,  grappling  resolutely  and 
alone  with  the  problem  before  him,  he  completed 
what  was  really  the  first  act  of  his  Presidency — 
the  choice  of  his  cabinet,  of  the  men  who  were 
to  aid  him. 

People  who  doubted  the  will  or  the  wisdom  of 
their  Rail-splitter  Candidate  need  have  had  no 
fear.  A  weak  man  would  have  chosen  this  little 
band  of  counselors — the  Secretary  of  State,  the 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  and  the  half-dozen 
others  who  were  to  stand  closest  to  him  and  to  be 
at  the  head  of  the  great  departments  of  the  gov- 
ernment—  from  among  his  personal  friends.  A 
man  uncertain  of  his  own  power  would  have  taken 
care  that  no  other  man  of  strong  nature  with  a 
great  following  of  his  own  should  be  there  to  dis- 
pute his  authority.  Lincoln  did  the  very  opposite. 
He  had  a  sincere  belief  in  public  opinion,  and  a 
deep  respect  for  the  popular  will.  In  this  case 
hs  felt  that  no  men  represented  that  popular  will 
so  truly  as  those  whose  names  had  been  consid- 


132  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

ered  by  the  Republican  National  Convention  in 
its  choice  of  a  candidate  for  President.  So, 
instead  of  gathering  about  him  his  friends,  he 
selected  his  most  powerful  rivals  in  the  Republi- 
can party.  William  H.  Seward,  of  New  York, 
was  to  be  his  Secretary  of  State;  Salmon  P. 
Chase,  of  Ohio,  his  Secretary  of  the  Treasury; 
Simon  Cameron,  of  Pennsylvania,  his  Secre- 
tary of  War;  Edward  Bates,  of  Missouri, 
his  Attorney-General.  The  names  of  all  of 
these  men  had  been  before  the  Convention.  Each 
one  had  hoped  to  be  President  in  his  stead.  For 
the  other  three  members  of  his  Cabinet  he  had  to 
look  elsewhere.  Gideon  Welles,  of  Connecticut, 
for  Secretary  of  the  Navy ;  Montgomery  Blair,  of 
Maryland,  for  Postmaster-General;  and  Caleb 
B.  Smith,  of  Indiana,  for  Secretary  of  the 
Interior,  were  finally  chosen.  When  people  com- 
plained, as  they  sometimes  did,  that  by  this 
arrangement  the  cabinet  consisted  of  four  men 
who  had  been  Democrats  in  the  old  days,  and  only 
three  who  had  been  Whigs,  Lincoln  smiled  his 
wise,  humorous  smile  and  answered  that  he  him- 
self had  been  a  Whig,  and  would  always  be  there 
to  make  matters  even.  It  is  not  likely  that  this 
exact  list  was  in  his  mind  on  the  night  of  the 
November  election;  but  the  principal  names  in 
it  most  certainly  were.    To  some  of  these  gentle- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  133 

men  he  offered  their  appointments  by  letter. 
Others  he  asked  to  visit  him  in  Springfield  to  talk 
the  matter  over.  Much  delay  and  some  misun- 
derstanding occurred  before  the  list  was  finally 
completed:  but  when  he  sent  it  to  the  Senate,  on 
the  day  after  his  inauguration,  it  was  practically 
the  one  he  had  in  his  mind  from  the  beginning. 
A  President  is  elected  by  popular  vote  early  in 
November,  but  he  is  not  inaugurated  until  the  fol- 
lowing fourth  of  March.  Until  the  day  of  his 
inauguration,  when  he  takes  the  oath  of  office  and 
begins  to  discharge  his  duties,  he  is  not  only  not 
President — he  has  no  more  power  in  the  affairs 
of  the  Government  than  the  humblest  private  citi- 
zen. It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  anxieties  and  mis- 
givings that  beset  Mr.  Lincoln  during  the  four 
long  months  that  lay  between  his  election  and  his 
inauguration.  True  to  their  threats  never  to 
endure  the  rule  of  a  "Black  Republican"  Presi- 
dent, the  Cotton  States  one  after  the  other  with- 
drew their  senators  and  representatives  from 
Congress,  passed  what  they  called  "Ordinances 
of  Secession,"  and  declared  themselves  to  be  no 
longer  a  part  of  the  United  States.  One  after 
another,  too,  army  and  navy  officers  stationed  in 
the  Southern  States  gave  up  to  the  Southern 
leaders  in  this  movement  the  forts,  navy-yards, 
arsenals,     mints,     ships,     and     other     govern- 


134  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

ment  property  under  their  charge.  President 
Buchanan,  in  whose  hands  alone  rested  the  power 
to  punish  these  traitors  and  avenge  their  insults 
to  the  government  he  had  sworn  to  protect  and 
defend,  showed  no  disposition  to  do  so ;  and  Lin- 
coln, looking  on  with  a  heavy  heart,  was  unable 
to  interfere  in  any  way.  No  matter  how  anx- 
iously he  might  watch  the  developments  at  Wash- 
ington or  in  the  Cotton  States,  no  matter  what 
appeals  might  be  made  to  him,  no  action  of  any 
kind  was  possible  on  his  part. 

The  only  bit  of  cheer  that  came  to  him  and 
other  Union  men  during  this  anxious  season  of 
waiting,  was  in  the  conduct  of  Major  Robert 
Anderson  at  Charleston  Harbor,  who,  instead  of 
following  the  example  of  other  officers  who  were 
proving  unfaithful,  boldly  defied  the  Southern 
"secessionists,"  and  moving  his  little  handful  of 
soldiers  into  the  harbor  fort  best  fitted  for 
defense,  prepared  to  hold  out  against  them  until 
help  could  reach  him  from  Washington. 

In  February  the  leaders  of  the  Southern  people 
met  at  Montgomery,  Alabama,  adopted  a  Con- 
stitution, and  set  up  a  government  which  they 
called  the  Confederate  States  of  America,  elect- 
ing Jefferson  Davis,  of  Mississippi,  President,  and 
Alexander  K.  Stephens,  of  Georgia,  Vice-Presi- 
dent.    Stephens  was  the  "little,  slim  pale-faced 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


135 


consumptive  man"  whose  speech  in  Congress  had 
won  Lincoln's  admiration  years  before.  Davis 
had  been  the  child  who  began  his  schooling  so 
near  to  Lincoln  in  Kentucky.  He  had  had  a  far 
different  career.     Good  fortune  had  carried  him 


THE   HOUSE   IN   WHICH    LINCOLN    LIVED   WHEN    HE   WAS   ELECTED   PRESIDENT 

to  West  Point,  into  the  Mexican  War,  into  the 
cabinet  of  President  Franklin  Pierce,  and  twice 
into  the  Senate.  He  had  had  money,  high  office, 
the  best  education  his  country  could  give  him — 
everything,  it  seemed,  that  had  been  denied  to 
Lincoln.     Now  the  two  men  were  the   chosen 


136  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

heads  of  two  great  opposing  factions,  one  bent 
on  destroying  the  government  that  had  treated 
him  so  kindly ;  the  other,  for  whom  it  had  done  so 
little,  willing  to  lay  down  his  life  in  its  defense. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Lincoln  remained 
idle  during  these  four  months  of  waiting. 
Besides  completing  his  cabinet,  and  receiving  his 
many  visitors,  he  devoted  himself  to  writing  his 
inaugural  address,  withdrawing  himself  for 
some  hours  each  day  to  a  quiet  room  over  the 
store  of  his  brother-in-law,  where  he  could  think 
and  write  undisturbed.  The  newspaper  corre- 
spondents who  had  gathered  at  Springfield, 
though  alert  for  every  item  of  news,  and  espe- 
cially anxious  for  a  sight  of  his  inaugural  ad- 
dress, seeing  him  every  day  as  usual,  got  not  the 
slightest  hint  of  what  he  was  doing. 

Mr.  Lincoln  started  on  his  journey  to  Wash- 
ington on  February  11,  1861,  two  days  after  Jef- 
ferson Davis  had  been  elected  President  of  the 
Confederate  States  of  America.  He  went  on  a 
special  train,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Lincoln  and 
their  three  children,  his  two  private  secretaries, 
and  about  a  dozen  personal  friends.  Mr.  Seward 
had  suggested  that  because  of  the  unsettled  con- 
dition of  public  affairs  it  would  be  better  for  the 
President-elect  to  come  a  week  earlier;  but  Mr. 
Lincoln  allowed  himself  only  time  comfortably 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  137 

to  fill  the  engagements  he  had  made  to  visit  the 
State  capitals  and  principal  cities  that  lay  on  his 
way,  to  which  he  had  been  invited  by  State  and 
town  officials,  regardless  of  party.  The  morning 
on  which  he  left  Springfield  was  dismal  and 
stormy,  but  fully  a  thousand  of  his  friends  and 
neighbors  assembled  to  bid  him  farewell.  The 
weather  seemed  to  add  to  the  gloom  and  depres- 
sion of  their  spirits,  and  the  leave-taking  was  one 
of  subdued  anxiety,  almost  of  solemnity.  Mr. 
Lincoln  took  his  stand  in  the  waiting-room  while 
his  friends  filed  past  him,  often  merely  pressing 
his  hand  in  silent  emotion.  The  arrival  of  the 
rushing  train  broke  in  upon  this  ceremony,  and 
the  crowd  closed  about  the  car  into  which  the 
President-elect  and  his  party  made  their  way. 
Just  as  they  were  starting,  when  the  conductor 
had  his  hand  upon  the  bell-rope,  Mr.  Lincoln 
stepped  out  upon  the  front  platform  and  made 
the  following  brief  and  pathetic  address.  It  was 
the  last  time  his  voice  was  to  be  heard  in  the  city 
which  had  so  long  been  his  home: 

"My  Friends :  No  one  not  in  my  situation  can 
appreciate  my  feeling  of  sadness  at  this  parting. 
To  this  place  and  the  kindness  of  these  people  I 
owe  everything.  Here  I  have  lived  a  quarter  of 
a  century,  and  have  passed  from  a  young  to  an 
old  man.    Here  my  children  have  been  born,  and 


138  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

one  is  buried.  I  now  leave,  not  knowing  when  or 
whether  ever  I  may  return,  with  a  task  before  me 
greater  than  that  which  rested  upon  Washington. 
Without  the  assistance  of  that  Divine  Being  who 
ever  attended  him,  I  cannot  succeed.  With  that 
assistance  I  cannot  fail.  Trusting  in  Him  who 
can  go  with  me,  and  remain  with  you,  and  be 
everywhere  for  good,  let  us  confidently  hope  that 
all  will  yet  be  well.  To  His  care  commending 
you,  as  I  hope  in  your  prayers  you  will  commend 
me,  I  bid  you  an  affectionate  farewell." 

The  conductor  gave  the  signal,  the  train  rolled 
slowly  out  of  the  station,  and  the  journey  to 
Washington  was  begun.  It  was  a  remarkable 
progress.  At  almost  every  station,  even  the 
smallest,  crowds  had  gathered  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  face  of  the  President-elect,  or  at  least  to 
see  the  flying  train.  At  the  larger  stopping- 
places  these  crowds  swelled  to  thousands,  and  in 
the  great  cities  to  almost  unmanageable  throngs. 
Everywhere  there  were  calls  for  Mr.  Lincoln, 
and  if  he  showed  himself,  for  a  speech.  When- 
ever there  was  time,  he  would  go  to  the  rear  plat- 
form of  the  car  and  bow  as  the  train  moved  away, 
or  utter  a  few  words  of  thanks  and  greeting.  At 
the  capitals  of  Indiana,  Ohio,  New  York,  New 
Jersey,  and  Pennsylvania,  and  in  the  cities  of 
Cincinnati,  Cleveland,  Buffalo,  New  York,  and 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  139 

Philadelphia,  halts  of  one  or  two  days  were  made, 
the  time  being  filled  with  formal  visits  and 
addresses  to  each  house  of  the  legislature,  street 
processions,  large  evening  receptions,  and  other 
ceremonies. 

Party  foes  as  well  as  party  friends  made  up 
these  expectant  crowds.  Every  eye  was  eager, 
every  ear  strained,  to  get  some  hint  of  the 
thoughts  and  purposes  of  the  man  who  was  to 
be  the  guide  and  head  of  the  nation  in  the  crisis 
that  every  one  now  knew  to  be  upon  the  country, 
but  the  course  and  end  of  which  the  wisest  could 
not  foresee.  In  spite  of  all  the  cheers  and  the 
enthusiasm,  there  was  also  an  under-current  of 
anxiety  for  his  personal  safety,  for  the  South  had 
openly  boasted  that  Lincoln  would  never  live  to 
be  inaugurated  President.  He  himself  paid  no 
heed  to  such  warnings;  but  the  railroad  officials, 
and  others  who  were  responsible  for  his  journey, 
had  detectives  on  watch  at  different  points  to 
report  any  suspicious  happenings.  Nothing 
occurred  to  change  the  program  already  agreed 
upon  until  the  party  reached  Philadelphia;  but 
there  Mr.  Lincoln  was  met  by  Frederick  W. 
Seward,  the  son  of  his  future  Secretary  of  State, 
with  an  important  message  from  his  father.  A 
plot  had  been  discovered  to  do  violence  to,  and 
perhaps   kill,   the   President-elect   as   he   passed 


140  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

through  the  city  of  Baltimore.  Mr.  Seward  and 
General  Scott,  the  venerable  hero  of  the  Mexican 
War,  who  was  now  at  the  head  of  the  army, 
begged  him  to  run  no  risk,  but  to  alter  his  plans 
so  that  a  portion  of  his  party  might  pass  through 
Baltimore  by  a  night  train  without  previous  no- 
tice. The  seriousness  of  the  warning  was  doubled 
by  the  fact  that  Mr.  Lincoln  had  just  been  told 
of  a  similar,  if  not  exactly  the  same,  danger,  by 
a  Chicago  detective  employed  in  Baltimore  by  one 
of  the  great  railroad  companies.  Two  such  warn- 
ings, coming  from  entirely  different  sources, 
could  not  be  disregarded ;  for  however  much  Mr. 
Lincoln  might  dislike  to  change  his  plans  for  so 
shadowy  a  danger,  his  duty  to  the  people  who  had 
elected  him  forbade  his  running  any  unnecessary 
risk.  Accordingly,  after  fulfilling  all  his  engage- 
ments in  Philadelphia  and  Harrisburg  on  Febru- 
ary 22,  he  and  a  single  companion  took  a  night 
train,  passed  quietly  through  Baltimore,  and  ar- 
rived in  Washington  about  daylight  on  the  morn- 
ing of  February  23.  This  action  called  forth 
much  talk,  ranging  from  the  highest  praise  to 
ridicule  and  blame.  A  reckless  newspaper  re- 
porter telegraphed  all  over  the  country  the 
absurd  story  that  he  had  traveled  disguised 
in  a  Scotch  cap  and  a  long  military  cloak. 
There    was,    of    course,    not    a    word    of    truth 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  141 

in  the  absurd  tale.  The  rest  of  the  party 
followed  Mr.  Lincoln  at  the  time  originally 
planned.  They  saw  great  crowds  in  the  streets 
of  Baltimore,  but  there  was  now  no  occasion 
for  violence. 

In  the  week  that  passed  between  his  arrival 
and  the  day  of  his  inauguration  Mr.  Lincoln 
exchanged  the  customary  visits  of  ceremony  with 
President  Buchanan,  his  cabinet,  the  Supreme 
Court,  the  two  houses  of  Congress,  and  other 
dignitaries. 

Careful  preparations  for  the  inauguration  had 
been  made  under  the  personal  direction  of  Gen- 
eral Scott,  who  held  the  small  military  force  in 
the  city  ready  instantly  to  suppress  any  attempt 
to  disturb  the  peace  and  quiet  of  the  day. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  of  March  Presi- 
dent Buchanan  and  Citizen  Lincoln,  the  outgoing 
and  incoming  heads  of  the  government,  rode  side 
by  side  in  a  carriage  from  the  Executive  Man- 
sion, or  White  House,  as  it  is  more  commonly 
called,  to  the  Capitol,  escorted  by  an  imposing 
procession ;  and  at  noon  a  great  throng  of  people 
heard  Mr.  Lincoln  read  his  inaugural  address  as 
he  stood  on  the  east  portico  of  the  Capitol,  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  high  officials  of  the  govern- 
ment. Senator  Douglas,  his  unsuccessful  rival, 
standing  not  an  arm's  length  away  from  him, 


142  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

courteously  held  his  hat  during  the  ceremony. 
A  cheer  greeted  him  as  he  finished  his  address. 
Then  the  Chief  Justice  arose,  the  clerk  opened  his 
Bible,  and  Mr.  Lincoln,  laying  his  hand  upon  the 
book,  pronounced  the  oath : 

"I,  Abraham  Lincoln,  do  solemnly  swear  that 
I  will  faithfully  execute  the  office  of  President  of 
the  United  States,  and  will,  to  the  best  of  my  abil- 
ity, preserve,  protect,  and  defend  the  Constitu- 
tion of  the  United  States." 

Amid  the  thundering  of  cannon  and  the 
applause  of  all  the  spectators,  President  Lincoln 
and  Citizen  Buchanan  again  entered  their  car- 
riage and  drove  back  from  the  Capitol  to  the 
Executive  Mansion,  on  the  threshold  of  which 
Mr.  Buchanan,  warmly  shaking  the  hand  of  his 
successor,  expressed  his  wishes  for  the  personal 
happiness  of  the  new  President,  and  for  the 
national  peace  and  prosperity. 


VII 

LINCOLN    AND    THE   WAR 

IT  is  one  thing  to  be  elected  President  of  the 
United  States, — that  means  triumph,  honor, 
power:  it  is  quite  another  thing  to  perform  the 
duties  of  President, — for  that  means  labor,  disap- 
pointment, difficulty,  even  danger.  Many  a  man 
envied  Abraham  Lincoln  when,  in  the  stately 
pomp  of  inauguration  and  with  the  plaudits  of 
the  spectators  ringing  about  him,  he  took  the 
oath  of  office  which  for  four  years  transforms 
an  American  citizen  into  the  ruler  of  these  United 
States.  Such  envy  would  have  been  changed  to 
deepest  sympathy  if  they  could  have  known  what 
lay  before  him.  After  the  music  and  cannon  were 
dumb,  after  the  flags  were  all  furled  and  the 
cheering  crowds  had  vanished,  the  shadows  of 
war  fell  about  the  Executive  Mansion,  and  its 
new  occupant  remained  face  to  face  with  his 
heavy  task — a  task  which,  as  he  had  truly  said 
in  his  speech  at  Springfield,  was  greater  than 
that  which  rested  upon  Washington. 

143 


144  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

Then,  as  never  before,  he  must  have  realized 
the  peril  of  the  nation,  with  its  credit  gone,  its 
laws  defied,  its  flag  insulted.  The  South  had 
carried  out  its  threat,  and  seven  million  Ameri- 
cans were  in  revolt  against  the  idea  that  "all 
men  are  created  equal,"  while  twenty  million 
other  Americans  were  bent  upon  defending  that 
idea.  For  the  moment  both  sides  had  paused 
to  see  how  the  new  President  would  treat  this 
attempt  at  secession.  It  must  be  constantly  borne 
in  mind  that  the  rebellion  in  the  Southern  States 
with  which  Mr.  Lincoln  had  to  deal  was  not  a 
sudden  revolution,  but  a  conspiracy  of  slow 
growth  and  long  planning.  As  one  of  its  actors 
frankly  admitted,  it  was  "not  an  event  of  a  day. 
It  is  not  anything  produced  by  Mr.   Lincoln's 

election It  is  a  matter  which  has  been 

gathering  head  for  thirty  years."  Its  main  ob- 
ject, it  must  also  be  remembered,  was  the  spread 
of  slavery.  Alexander  H.  Stephens,  in  a  speech 
made  shortly  after  he  became  the  Confederate 
Vice-President,  openly  proclaimed  slavery  to  be 
the  "corner-stone"  of  the  new  government.  For 
years  it  had  been  the  dream  of  southern  leaders 
to  make  the  Ohio  River  the  northern  boundary 
of  a  great  slave  empire,  with  everything  lying 
to  the  south  of  that,  even  the  countries  of  South 
and  Central  America,  as  parts  of  their  system. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  145 

Though  this  dream  was  never  to  be  realized,  the 
Confederacy  finally  came  to  number  eleven 
States  (Alabama,  Mississippi,  Louisiana,  South 
Carolina,  North  Carolina,  Florida,  Texas,  Arkan- 
sas, Tennessee,  Virginia  and  Georgia),  and  to 
cover  a  territory  of  more  than  750,000  square 
miles — larger  than  England,  Scotland,  Ireland, 
France,  Spain,  Germany  and  Switzerland  put 
together,  with  a  coast  line  3,500  miles  long,  and 
a  land  frontier  of  over  7,000  miles. 

President  Buchanan's  timidity  and  want  of 
spirit  had  alone  made  this  great  rebellion  possi- 
ble, for  although  it  had  been  "gathering  head 
for  thirty  years"  it  was  only  within  the  last  few 
months  that  it  had  come  to  acts  of  open  treason 
and  rebellion.  President  Buchanan  had  oppor- 
tunity and  ample  power  to  crush  it  when  the 
conspirators  first  began  to  show  their  hands.  In- 
stead he  wavered,  and  delayed,  while  they  grew 
bold  under  his  lack  of  decision,  imagining  that 
they  would  have  a  bloodless  victory,  and  even 
boasting  that  they  would  take  Washington  for 
their  capital;  or,  if  the  new  President  should 
thwart  them  and  make  them  fight,  that  they 
would  capture  Philadelphia  and  dictate  the  peace 
they  wanted  from  Independence  Hall. 

By  the  time  Mr.  Lincoln  came  into  office  the 
conspiracy  had  grown  beyond   control  by  any 


146  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

means  then  in  the  hands  of  a  President,  though 
men  on  both  sides  still  vainly  hoped  that  the 
troubles  of  the  country  might  be  settled  without 
fighting.  Mr.  Lincoln  especially  wished  to  make 
very  sure  that  if  it  ever  came  to  a  matter  of  war, 
the  fault  should  not  lie  with  the  North. 

In  his  inaugural  address  he  had  told  the 
South  that  he  would  use  the  power  confided  to 
him  to  hold  and  occupy  the  places  belonging 
to  the  Government,  and  to  collect  the  taxes; 
but  beyond  what  might  be  necessary  for  these 
objects,  he  would  not  use  force  among  the  peo- 
ple anywhere.  His  peaceful  policy  was  already 
harder  to  follow  than  he  realized.  Before  he 
had  been  President  twenty-four  hours  word 
came  from  Major  Anderson,  still  defying  the 
conspirators  from  Fort  Sumter  in  Charleston 
Harbor,  that  his  little  garrison  was  short  of 
food,  and  must  speedily  surrender  unless  help 
reached  them.  The  rebels  had  for  weeks  been 
building  batteries  to  attack  the  fort,  and  with 
Anderson's  report  came  the  written  opinions  of 
his  officers  that  it  would  require  an  army  of 
20,000  men  to  relieve  it.  They  might  as  well 
have  asked  for  twenty  thousand  archangels,  for 
at  that  time  the  entire  army  of  the  United  States 
numbered  but  17,113  men,  and  these  were  doing 
duty,  not    only    in    the    Southern    and    Eastern 


THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

States,  but  were  protecting  settlers  from  Indians 
on  the  great  western  frontier,  and  guarding  the 
long  Canadian  and  Mexican  boundaries  as  well. 
Yet  Anderson  and  his  men  could  not  be  left  to 
their  fate  without  even  an  attempt  to  help  them, 
though  some  of  the  high  military  and  naval 
officers  hastily  called  into  council  by  the  new 
President  advised  this  course.'  It  was  finally 
decided  to  notify  the  Confederates  that  a  ship 
carrying  food,  but  no  soldiers,  would  be  sent  to 
his  relief.  If  they  chose  to  fire  upon  that  it 
would  be  plainly  the  South,  and  not  the  North, 
that  began  the  war. 

Days  went  on,  and  by  the  middle  of  April 
the  Confederate  government  found  itself  forced 
to  a  fatal  choice.  Either  it  must  begin  war,  or 
allow  the  rebellion  to  collapse.  All  its  claims 
to  independence  were  denied;  the  commissioners 
it  sent  to  Washington  on  the  pretense  that 
they  were  agents  of  a  foreign  country  were 
politely  refused  a  hearing,  yet  not  one  angry 
w^rd,  or  provoking  threat,  or  a  single  harmful 
act  had  come  from  the  "Black  Republican"  Presi- 
dent. In  his  inaugural  he  had  promised  the 
people  of  the  South  peace  and  protection,  and  of- 
fered them  the  benefit  of  the  mails.  Even  now, 
all  he  proposed  to  do  was  to  send  bread  to  An- 
derson and  his  hungry  soldiers.     His  prudent 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  149 

policy  placed  them  where,  as  he  had  told  them, 
they  could  have  no  war  unless  they  themselves 
chose  to  begin  it. 

They  did  choose  to  begin  it.  The  rebellion 
was  the  work  of  ambitious  men,  who  had  no 
mind  to  stop  at  that  late  day  and  see  their  labor 
go  for  nothing.  The  officer  in  charge  of  their 
batteries  was  ordered  to  open  fire  on  Fort  Sumter 
if  Anderson  refused  to  surrender ;  and  in  the  dim 
light  of  dawn  on  April  12,  1861,  just  as  the  out- 
line of  Fort  Sumter  began  to  show  itself  against 
a  brightening  sky,  the  shot  that  opened  the 
Civil  War  rose  from  a  rebel  battery  and  made 
its  slow  and  graceful  curve  upon  Sumter.  Soon 
all  the  batteries  were  in  action,  and  the  fort  was 
replying  with  a  will.  Anderson  held  out  for  a 
day  and  a  half,  until  his  cartridges  were  all  used 
up,  his  flagstaff  had  been  shot  away,  and  the 
wooden  buildings  inside  the  fort  were  on  fire. 
Then,  as  the  ships  with  supplies  had  not  yet 
arrived,  and  he  had  neither  food  nor  ammunition, 
he  was  forced  to  surrender. 

The  news  of  the  firing  upon  Fort  Sumter 
changed  the  mood  of  the  country  as  if  by  magic. 
By  deliberate  act  of  the  Confederate  govern- 
ment its  attempt  at  peaceable  secession  had 
been  changed  to  active  war.  The  Confederates 
gained  Fort  Sumter,  but  in  doing  so  they  roused 


150  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

the  patriotism  of  the  North  to  a  firm  resolve  that 
this  insult  to  the  flag  should  be  redressed,  and 
that  the  unrighteous  experiment  of  a  rival  gov- 
ernment founded  upon  slavery  as  its  "corner- 
stone," should  never  succeed.  In  one  of  his 
speeches  on  the  journey  to  Washington  Mr. 
Lincoln  had  said  that  devoted  as  he  was  to 
peace,  it  might  become  necessary  to  "put  the 
foot  down  firmly."  That  time  had  now  come. 
On  April  15,  the  day  after  the  fall  of  Fort 
Sumter,  all  the  newspapers  of  the  country 
printed  the  President's  call  to  arms,  ordering 
out  75,000  militia  for  three  months,  and  direct- 
ing Congress  to  meet  in  special  session  on  July 
4,  1 86 1.  The  North  rallied  instantly  to  the 
support  of  the  Government,  and  offered  him  twice 
the  number  of  soldiers  he  asked  for. 

Nothing  more  clearly  shows  the  difference 
between  President  Lincoln  and  President  Bu- 
chanan than  the  way  in  which  the  two  men  met 
the  acts  of  the  Southern  Rebellion.  President 
Buchanan  temporized  and  delayed  when  he  had 
plenty  of  power.  President  Lincoln,  without 
a  moment's  hesitation  accepted  the  great  and 
unusual  responsibility  thrust  upon  him,  and  at 
once  issued  orders  for  buying  ships,  moving 
troops,  advancing  money  to  Committees  of 
Safety,  and  for  other  military  and  navai  meas- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  151 

tires  for  which  at  the  moment  he  had  no  ex- 
press authority  from  Congress.  As  soon  as 
Congress  came  together  on  July  4,  he  sent  a  mes- 
sage explaining  his  action,  saying:  "It  became 
necessary  for  me  to  choose  whether,  using  only 
the  existing  means  ....  which  Congress  had 
provided,  I  should  let  the  Government  fall  at 
once  into  ruin,  or  whether  availing  myself  of 
the  broader  powers  conferred  by  the  Constitu- 
tion in  cases  of  insurrection,  I  would  make  an 
effort  to  save  it  with  all  its  blessings  for  the 
present  age  and  for  posterity."  Congress,  it  is 
needless  to  say,  not  only  approved  all  that  he 
had  done,  but  gave  him  practically  unlimited 
powers  for  dealing  with  the  rebellion  in  future. 
It  soon  became  evident  that  no  matter  how 
ready  and  willing  to  fight  for  their  country  the 
75,000  volunteers  might  be,  they  could  not  hope 
to  put  down  the  rebellion,  because  the  time  for 
which  they  had  enlisted  would  be  almost  over 
before  they  could  receive  the  training  necessary 
to  change  them  from  valiant  citizens  into  good 
soldiers.  Another  call  was  therefore  issued,  this 
time  for  men  to  serve  three  years  or  during  the 
war,  and  also  for  a  large  number  of  sailors  to 
man  the  new  ships  that  the  Government  was 
straining  every  nerve  to  buy,  build  and  otherwise 
make  ready. 


152  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

More  important,  however,  than  soldiers  trained 
or  untrained,  was  the  united  will  of  the  people 
of  the  North;  and  most  important  of  all  the 
steadfast  and  courageous  soul  of  the  man  called 
to  direct  the  struggle.  Abraham  Lincoln,  the 
poor  frontier  boy,  the  struggling  young  lawyer, 
the  Illinois  politician,  whom  many,  even  among 
the  Republicans  who  voted  to  elect  him  President, 
thought  scarcely  fit  to  hold  a  much  smaller  office, 
proved  beyond  question  the  man  for  the  task; 
gifted  above  all  his  associates  with  wisdom  and 
strength  to  meet  the  great  emergencies  as  they 
arose  during  the  four  years'  war  that  had  already 
begun. 

Since  this  is  the  story  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  life, 
and  not  of  the  Civil  War,  we  cannot  attempt  to 
follow  the  history  of  the  long  contest  as  it  un- 
folded itself  day  by  day  and  month  by  month, 
or  even  to  stop  to  recount  a  list  of  the  great  battles 
that  drenched  the  land  in  blood.  It  was  a  mighty 
struggle,  fought  by  men  of  the  same  race  and 
kindred,  often  by  brother  against  brother.  Each 
fought  for  what  he  felt  to  be  right;  and  their 
common  inheritance  of  courage  and  iron  will, 
of  endurance  and  splendid  bravery  and  stub- 
born pluck,  made  this  battle  of  brothers  the 
more  bitter  as  it  was  the  more  prolonged.  It 
ranged  over  an  immense  extent  of  country;  but 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  153 

because  Washington  was  the  capital  of  the 
Union,  and  Richmond,  Virginia,  the  capital  of 
the  Confederacy,  and  the  desire  of  each  side 
was  to  capture  the  chief  city  of  the  other,  the 
principal  fighting  ground,  during  the  whole  war, 
lay  between  these  two  towns,  with  the  Alleghany 
Mountains  on  the  west,  and  Chesapeake  Bay 
on  the  east.  Between  the  Alleghanies  and  the 
Mississippi  River  another  field  of  warfare  de- 
veloped itself,  on  which  some  of  the  hardest 
battles  were  fought,  and  the  greatest  victories 
won.  Beyond  the  Mississippi  again  stretched 
another  great  field,  bounded  only  by  the  Rocky 
Mountains  and  the  Rio  Grande.  But  the  princi- 
pal fighting  in  this  field  was  near  or  even  on  the 
Mississippi,  in  the  efforts  made  by  both  Union- 
ists and  Confederates  to  keep  and  hold  the  great 
highway  of  the  river,  so  necessary  for  trade  in 
time  of  peace,  and  for  moving  armies  in  time 
of  war. 

On  this  immense  battle-ground  was  fought 
one  of  the  most  costly  wars  of  modern  times, 
with  soldiers  numbering  a  million  men  on  each 
side;  in  which,  counting  battles  and  skirmishes 
small  and  great,  an  average  of  two  engagements 
a  day  were  fought  for  four  long  years,  two  mil- 
lions of  money  were  used  up  every  twenty-four 
hours,   and  during  which   the   unholy  prize  of 


154  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

slavery,  for  which  the  Confederate  States  did 
battle,  was  completely  swept  away. 

Though  the  tide  of  battle  ebbed  and  flowed, 
defeat  and  victory  may  be  said  to  have  been 
nearly  evenly  divided.  Generally  speaking,  suc- 
cess was  more  often  on  the  side  of  the  South 
during  the  first  half  of  the  war ;  with  the  North, 
during  the  latter  half.  The  armies  were  equally 
brave;  the  North  had  the  greater  territory  from 
which  to  draw  supplies;  and  the  end  came,  not 
when  one  side  had  beaten  the  other,  man  for 
man,  but  when  the  South  had  been  drained  of 
fighting  men  and  food  and  guns,  and  slavery 
had  perished  in  the  stress  of  war. 

Fortunately  for  all,  nobody  at  the  beginning 
dreamed  of  the  length  of  the  struggle.  Even 
Lincoln's  stout  heart  would  have  been  dis- 
mayed if  he  could  have  foreseen  all  that  lay 
before  him.  The  task  that  he  could  see  was 
hard  and  perplexing  enough.  Everything  in 
Washington  was  in  confusion.  No  President 
ever  had  such  an  increase  of  official  work  as 
Lincoln  during  the  early  months  of  his  admin- 
istration. The  halls  and  ante-rooms  of  the  Ex- 
ecutive Mansion  were  literally  crowded  with 
people  seeking  appointment  to  office;  and  the 
new  appointments  that  were  absolutely  neces- 
sary were  not  half  finished  when  the  firing  on 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  155 

Fort  Sumter  began  active  war.  This  added  to 
the  difficulty  of  sifting  the  loyal  from  the  dis- 
loyal, and  the  yet  more  pressing  labor  of  organ- 
izing an  immense  new  army. 

Hundreds  of  clerks  employed  in  the  Govern- 
ment Departments  left  their  desks  and  hurried 
South,  crippling  the  service  just  at  the  time  when 
the  sudden  increase  of  work  made  their  presence 
doubly  needed.  A  large  proportion  of  the  offi- 
cers of  the  Army  and  Navy,  perhaps  as  many 
as  one-third,  gave  their  skill  and  services  to  the 
Confederacy,  feeling  that  their  allegiance  was 
due  to  their  State  or  section  rather  than  to  the 
general  government.  Prominent  among  these 
was  Robert  E.  Lee,  who  had  been  made  a 
colonel  by  Lincoln,  and  whom  General  Scott 
had  recommended  as  the  most  promising 
officer  to  command  the  new  force  of  75,000 
men  called  out  by  the  President's  proclama- 
tion. He  chose  instead  to  resign  and  cast 
his  fortunes  with  the  South,  where  he  became 
the  head  of  all  the  Confederate  armies.  The 
loss  to  the  Union  and  gain  to  the  Confederate 
cause  by  his  action  is  hard  to  measure,  since  in 
him  the  Southern  armies  found  a  commander 
whose  surpassing  courage  and  skill  inspired  its 
soldiers  long  after  all  hope  of  success  was  gone. 

Cases  such  as  this  gave  the  President  more 


156  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

anxiety  than  all  else.  It  seemed  impossible 
to  know  whom  to  trust.  An  officer  might  come 
to  him  in  the  morning  protesting  devotion  to 
the  Union,  and  by  night  be  gone  to  the  South. 
Mr.  Lincoln  used  to  say  at  this  time  that  he 
felt  like  a  man  letting  rooms  at  one  end  of  his 
house  while  the  other  end  was  on  fire. 

The  situation  grew  steadily  worse.  Maryland 
refused  to  allow  United  States  soldiers  to  cross 
her  territory,  and  the  first  attempt  to  bring 
troops  through  Baltimore  from  the  North  ended 
in  a  bloody  riot,  and  the  burning  of  railroad 
bridges  to  prevent  help  from  reaching  Wash- 
ington. For  three  days  Washington  was  en- 
tirely cut  ofT  from  the  North,  either  by  telegraph 
or  mail.  General  Scott  hastily  prepared  the 
city  for  a  siege,  taking  possession  of  all  the  large 
supplies  of  flour  and  provisions  in  town,  and 
causing  the  Capitol  and  other  public  buildings 
to  be  barricaded.  Though  President  Lincoln 
did  not  doubt  the  final  arrival  of  help,  he,  like 
everyone  else,  was  very  anxious,  and  found  it 
hard  to  understand  the  long  delay.  He  knew 
that  troops  had  started  from  the  North.  Why 
did  they  not  arrive?  They  might  not  be  able 
to  go  through  Baltimore,  but  they  could  cer- 
tainly go  around  it.  The  distance  was  not  great. 
What  if  twenty  miles  of  railroad  had  been  de- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  157 

stroyed,  were  the  soldiers  unable  to  march? 
Always  calm  and  self-controlled,  he  gave  no 
sign  in  the  presence  of  others  of  the  anxiety  that 
weighed  so  heavily  upon  him.  Very  likely  the 
visitors  who  saw  him  during  those  days  thought 
that  he  hardly  realized  the  plight  of  the  city;  yet 
an  inmate  of  the  White  House,  passing  through 
the  President's  office  when  the  day's  work  was 
done  and  he  imagined  himself  alone,  saw  him 
pause  in  his  absorbed  walk  up  and  down  the 
floor,  and  gaze  long  out  of  the  window  in  the 
direction  from  which  the  troops  were  expected 
to  appear.  Then,  unconscious  of  any  hearer, 
and  as  if  the  words  were  wrung  from  him  by 
anguish,  he  exclaimed,  "Why  don't  they  come, 
why  don't  they  come!" 

The  New  York  Seventh  Regiment  was  the 
first  to  "come."  By  a  roundabout  route  it 
reached  Washington  on  the  morning  of  April 
25,  and,  weary  and  travel-worn,  but  with  ban- 
ners flying  and  music  playing,  marched  up 
Pennsylvania  Avenue  to  the  big  white  Execu- 
tive Mansion,  bringing  cheer  to  the  President 
and  renewed  courage  to  those  timid  citizens 
whose  fright  during  this  time  had  almost  para- 
lyzed the  life  of  the  town.  Taking  renewed 
courage  they  once  more  opened  their  houses 
and  the  shops  that  had  been  closed  since  the 


158  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

beginning  of  the  blockade,  and  business  began 
anew. 

The  greater  part  of  the  three  months'  regi- 
ments had  been  ordered  to  Washington,  and  the 
outskirts  of  the  capital  soon  became  a  busy 
military  camp.  The  great  Departments  of  the 
Government,  especially  of  War  and  Navy,  could 
not  immediately  handle  the  details  of  all  this 
sudden  increase  of  work.  Men  were  volunteer- 
ing rapidly  enough,  but  there  was  sore  need  of 
rations  to  feed  them,  money  to  pay  them,  tents 
to  shelter  them,  uniforms  to  clothe  them,  rifles 
to  arm  them,  officers  to  drill  them,  and  of 
transportation  to  carry  them  to  the  camps  of  in- 
struction where  they  must  receive  their  training 
and  await  further  orders.  In  this  carnival  of 
patriotism  and  hurly-burly  of  organization  the 
weaknesses  as  well  as  the  virtues  of  human 
nature  quickly  showed  themselves;  and,  as  if  the 
new  President  had  not  already  enough  to  dis- 
tress and  harass  his  mind,  almost  every  case  of 
confusion  and  delay  was  brought  to  him  for 
complaint  and  correction.  On  him  also  fell 
the  delicate  and  serious  task  of  deciding  hun- 
dreds of  novel  questions  as  to  what  he  and  his 
cabinet  ministers  had  and  had  not  the  right  to 
do  under  the  Constitution. 

The  month  of  May  slipped  away  in  all  these 


RECEIVING   THE    NEWS    OF   THE    DEFEAT    OF   THE    UNION    TROOPS    AT  BULL   RUN 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  161 

preparatory  vexations;  but  the  great  machine 
of  war,  once  started,  moved  on  as  it  always 
does,  from  arming  to  massing  of  troops,  and 
from  that  to  skirmish  and  battle.  In  June  small 
fights  began  to  occur  between  the  Union  and 
Confederate  armies.  The  first  large  battle  of 
the  war  took  place  at  Bull  Run,  about  thirty-two 
miles  southwest  of  Washington,  on  July  21,  1861. 
It  ended  in  a  victory  for  the  Confederates,  though 
their  army  was  so  badly  crippled  by  its  losses 
that  it  made  no  further  forward  movement  dur- 
ing the  whole  of  the  next  autumn  and  winter. 

The  shock  of  this  defeat  was  deep  and  painful 
to  the  people  of  the  North,  not  yet  schooled 
to  patience,  or  to  the  uncertainties  of  war.  For 
weeks  the  newspapers,  confident  of  success,  had 
been  clamoring  for  action,  and  the  cry,  "Forward 
to  Richmond,"  had  been  heard  on  every  hand. 
At  first  the  people  would  not  believe  the  story 
of  a  defeat;  but  it  was  only  too  true.  By  night 
the  beaten  Union  troops  were  pouring  into  the 
fortifications  around  Washington,  and  the  next 
day  a  horde  of  stragglers  found  their  way  across 
the  bridges  of  the  Potomac  into  the  city. 

President  Lincoln  received  the  news  quietly, 
as  was  his  habit,  without  any  visible  sign  of  dis- 
tress or  alarm,  but  he  remained  awake  and  in 
his  office  all  that  Sunday  night,  listening  to  the 


162  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

excited  tales  of  congressmen  and  senators  who, 
with  undue  curiosity,  had  followed  the  army 
and  witnessed  some  of  the  sights  and  sounds 
of  battle ;  and  by  dawn  on  Monday  he  had  prac- 
tically made  up  his  mind  as  to  the  probable  result 
and  what  he  must  do  in  consequence. 

The  loss  of  the  battle  of  Bull  Run  was  a  bitter 
disappointment  to  him.  He  saw  that  the  North 
was  not  to  have  the  easy  victory  it  anticipated; 
and  to  him  personally  it  brought  a  great  and 
added  care  that  never  left  him  during  the  war. 
Up  to  that  time  the  North  had  stood  by  him  as 
one  man  in  its  eager  resolve  to  put  down  the  re- 
bellion. From  this  time  on,  though  quite  as 
determined,  there  was  division  and  disagreement 
among  the  people  as  to  how  this  could  best  be 
done.  Parties  formed  themselves  for  or  against 
this  or  that  general,  or  in  favor  of  this  or  that 
method  and  no  other  of  carrying  on  the  war. 
In  other  words,  the  President  and  his  "admin- 
istration"— the  cabinet  and  other  officers  under 
him — became,  from  this  time  on,  the  target  of 
criticism  for  all  the  failures  of  the  Union  armies, 
and  for  all  the  accidents  and  mistakes  and  unfore- 
seen delays  of  war.  The  self-control  that  Mr. 
Lincoln  had  learned  in  the  hard  school  of  his 
boyhood,  and  practised  during  all  the  long  strug- 
gle of  his  young  manhood,  had  been  severe  and 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  163 

bitter  training,  but  nothing  else  could  have  pre- 
pared him  for  the  great  disappointments  and 
trials  of  the  crowning  years  of  his  life.  He  had 
learned  to  endure  patiently,  to  reason  calmly, 
never  to  be  unduly  sure  of  his  own  opinion ;  but, 
having  taken  counsel  of  the  best  advice  at  his 
command,  to  continue  in  the  path  that  he  felt  to 
be  right,  regardless  of  criticism  or  unjust  abuse. 
He  had  daily  and  hourly  to  do  all  this.  He  was 
strong  and  courageous,  with  a  steadfast  belief 
that  the  right  would  triumph  in  the  end ;  but  his 
nature  was  at  the  same  time  sensitive  and  tender, 
and  the  sorrows  and  pain  of  others  hurt  him 
more  than  did  his  own. 


VIII 

UNSUCCESSFUL    GENERALS 

SO  far  Mr.  Lincoln's  new  duties  as  President 
had  not  placed  him  at  any  disadvantage 
with  the  members  of  his  cabinet.  On  the  old  ques- 
tion of  slavery  he  was  as  well  informed  and  had 
clearer  ideas  than  they.  On  the  new  military 
questions  that  had  come  up  since  the  inaugu- 
ration, they,  like  himself,  had  to  rely  on  the  ad- 
vice of  experienced  officers  of  the  army  and 
navy;  and  since  these  differed  greatly,  Mr. 
Lincoln's  powerful  mind  was  as  able  to  reach 
true  conclusions  as  were  men  who  had  been 
governors  and  senators.  Yet  the  idea  lingered 
that  because  he  had  never  before  held  high 
office,  and  because  a  large  part  of  his  life  had 
been  passed  in  the  rude  surroundings  of  the 
frontier,  he  must  of  necessity  be  lacking  in 
power  to  govern — be  weaker  in  will,  without 
tact  or  culture — must  in  every  way  be  less  fitted 
to  cope  with  the  difficult  problems  so  rapidly 
coming  upon  the  administration. 

1M 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  165 

At    the    beginning    even    Secretary    Seward 
shared  this  view.     Mr.  Lincoln  must  have  been 
surprised  indeed,  when,  on  the  first  day  of  April, 
exactly  four  weeks  after  his  inauguration,  his 
Secretary  of  State,  the  man  he  justly  looked  upon 
as  the  chief  member  of  his  cabinet,  handed  him 
a  paper  on  which  were  written  "Some  Thoughts 
for  the  President's  Consideration."    It  was  most 
grave  and  dignified  in  language,  but  in  substance 
bluntly  told  Mr.   Lincoln  that  after  a  month's 
trial  the  Administration  was  without  a  policy, 
domestic  or  foreign,  and  that  this  must  be  reme- 
died at  once.     It  advised  shifting  the  issue  at 
home  from  slavery  to  the  question  of  Union  or 
disunion;  and  counseled  the  adoption  of  an  atti- 
tude toward  Europe  which  could  not  have  failed 
to    rouse    the    anger    of    the    principal    foreign 
nations.     It  added  that  the  President  or  some 
member  of  his  cabinet  must  make  it  his  con- 
stant duty  to  pursue  and  direct  whatever  policy 
should  be  adopted,  and  hinted  very  plainly  that 
although   he,   Mr.    Seward,    did   not   seek   such 
responsibility,  he  was  willing  to  assume  it    The 
interest  of  this  remarkable  paper  for  us  lies  in 
the  way  Mr.  Lincoln  treated  it,  and  the  measure 
that  treatment  gives  us  of  his  generosity  and 
self-control.     An    envious    or    a    resentful   man 
could  not  have  wished  a  better  opportunity  to 


i66  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

put  a  rival  under  his  feet;  but  though  Mr.  Lin- 
coln doubtless  thought  the  incident  very  strange, 
it  did  not  for  a  moment  disturb  his  serenity  or 
his  kindly  judgment.  He  answered  in  a  few 
quiet  sentences  that  showed  no  trace  of  passion 
or  even  of  excitement;  and  on  the  central  sug- 
gestion that  some  one  person  must  direct  the 
affairs  of  the  government,  replied  with  dignity 
"if  this  must  be  done,  I  must  do  it,"  adding  that 
on  affairs  of  importance  he  desired  and  supposed 
he  had  a  right  to  have  the  advice  of  all  the  mem- 
bers of  his  cabinet.  This  reply  ended  the  matter, 
and  as  far  as  is  known,  neither  of  them  ever 
mentioned  the  subject  again.  Mr.  Lincoln  put 
the  papers  away  in  an  envelope,  and  no  word  of 
the  affair  came  to  the  public  until  years  after 
both  men  were  dead.  In  one  mind  at  least  there 
was  no  longer  a  doubt  that  the  cabinet  had  a 
master.  Mr.  Seward  recognized  the  President's 
kindly  forbearance,  and  repaid  it  by  devotion 
and  personal  friendship  until  the  day  of  his  tragic 
death. 

If,  after  this  experience,  the  Secretary  of  State 
needed  any  further  proof  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  ability 
to  rule,  it  soon  came  to  him,  for  during  the  first 
months  of  the  war  matters  abroad  claimed  the 
attention  of  the  cabinet,  and  with  these  also  the 
untried  western  man  showed  himself  better  fitted 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  167 

to  deal  than  his  more  experienced  advisers.  Many 
of  the  countries  of  Europe,  especially  France  and 
England,  wished  the  South  to  succeed.  France 
because  of  plans  that  Emperor  Napoleon  III  had 
for  founding  French  colonies  on  American  soil, 
and  England  because  such  success  would  give 
her  free  cotton  for  her  mills  and  factories.  Eng- 
land became  so  friendly  toward  the  rebels  that 
Mr.  Seward,  much  irritated,  wrote  a  despatch 
on  May  21,  1861,  to  Charles  Francis  Adams,  the 
American  Minister  at  London,  which,  if  it  had 
been  sent  as  he  wrote  it,  would  almost  certainly 
have  brought  on  war  between  the  two  countries. 
It  set  forth  justly  and  with  courage  what 
the  United  States  government  would  and  would 
not  endure  from  foreign  powers  during  the  war 
with  the  South,  but  it  had  been  penned  in 
a  heat  of  indignation,  and  was  so  blunt  and 
exasperating  as  to  suggest  intentional  disre- 
spect. When  Mr.  Seward  read  it  to  the  Pres- 
ident the  latter  at  once  saw  this,  and  taking  it 
from  his  Secretary  of  State  kept  it  by  him  for 
further  consideration.  A  second  reading  showed 
him  that  his  first  impression  was  correct. 
Thereupon  the  frontier  lawyer,  taking  his  pen, 
went  carefully  over  the  whole  dispatch,  and  by 
his  corrections  so  changed  the  work  of  the 
trained  and  experienced  statesman  as  entirely 


168  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

to  remove  its  offensive  tone,  without  in  the  least 
altering  its  force  or  courage. 

Once  again  during  1861  the  country  was 
in  serious  danger  of  war  with  England,  and 
the  action  of  President  Lincoln  at  this  time 
proved  not  only  that  he  had  the  will  to  be 
just,  even  when  his  own  people  were  against 
him,  but  had  the  skill  to  gain  real  advantage 
from  what  seemed  very  like  defeat.  One  of  the 
earliest  and  most  serious  tasks  of  the  Gov- 
ernment had  been  to  blockade  the  southern 
ports,  in  order  to  prevent  supplies  from  foreign 
countries  reaching  the  southern  people,  espe- 
cially the  southern  armies.  Considering  the 
great  length  of  coast  to  be  patrolled,  and  the 
small  size  of  the  navy  at  the  commencement  of 
the  struggle,  this  was  done  with  wonderful 
quickness,  and  proved  in  the  main  effective, 
though  occasionally  a  rebel  boat  managed  to 
slip  in  or  out  without  being  discovered  and 
fired  upon  by  the  ships  on  guard. 

In  November  Captain  Charles  Wilkes  learned 
that  Ex-Senators  J.  M.  Mason  and  John  Slidell, 
two  prominent  Confederates  bound  on  an  im- 
portant mission  to  Europe,  had  succeeded  in 
reaching  Cuba,  and  from  there  had  taken  pas- 
sage for  England  on  the  British  mail  steamer 
Trent.     He  stopped  the  Trent  and  took  Mason 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  169 

and  Slidell  prisoners,  afterward  allowing  the 
steamer  to  proceed  on  her  way.  The  affair  caused 
intense  excitement  both  in  England  and  in  the 
United  States,  and  England  began  instant 
preparations  for  war.  Lord  Lyons,  the  British 
Minister  at  Washington,  was  instructed  to  de- 
mand the  release  of  the  prisoners  and  a  suitable 
apology  within  one  week,  and  if  this  were  re- 
fused, to  close  his  legation  and  come  home.  It 
was  fortunate  that  Lord  Lyons  and  Mr.  Seward 
were  close  personal  friends,  and  could,  in  spite 
of  the  excitement  of  both  countries,  discuss  the 
matter  calmly  and  without  anger.  Their  con- 
ferences were  brought  to  an  end  by  Mr.  Lincoln's 
decision  to  give  up  the  prisoners.  In  the  North 
their  capture  had  been  greeted  with  extrav- 
agant joy.  Newspapers  rang  with  praises  of 
Captain  Wilkes;  his  act  was  officially  approved 
by  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  and  the  House 
of  Representatives  passed  a  resolution  thank- 
ing him  for  his  "brave,  adroit,  and  patriotic 
conduct."  In  the  face  of  all  this  it  must  have 
been  hard  indeed  for  Mr.  Lincoln  to  order 
that  Mason  and  Slidell  be  given  up;  but 
though  he  shared  the  first  impulse  of  rejoicing, 
he  soon  became  convinced  that  this  must  be 
done.  War  with  England  must  certainly  be 
avoided;  and  Captain  Wilkes,  by  allowing  the 


lyo  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

Trent  to  proceed  on  her  voyage,  instead  of  bring- 
ing her  into  port  with  the  prisoners,  had  put  it  out 
of  the  power  of  his  Government  to  prove,  under 
international  law,  that  the  capture  was  justified. 
Besides  all  else,  the  President's  quick  mind  saw, 
what  others  failed  to  note,  that  by  giving  up 
the  prisoners  as  England  demanded,  the  United 
States  would  really  gain  an  important  diplomatic 
victory.  For  many  years  England  had  claimed  the 
right  to  stop  and  search  vessels  at  sea  when  she 
had  reason  to  believe  they  carried  men  or  goods 
hostile  to  her  interests.  The  United  States  denied 
the  right,  and  yet  this  was  exactly  what  Captain 
Wilkes  had  done  in  stopping  the  Trent.  By  giv- 
ing up  the  prisoners  the  United  States  would  thus 
force  England  to  admit  that  her  own  claim  had 
been  unjust,  and  bind  her  in  future  to  respect 
the  rights  of  other  ships  at  sea.  Excited  Ameri- 
can feeling  was  grievously  disappointed,  and 
harsh  criticism  of  the  Administration  for  thus 
yielding  to  a  foreign  country  was  not  wanting: 
but  American  good  sense  soon  saw  the  justice 
of  the  point  taken  and  the  wisdom  of  Mr.  Lin- 
coln's course. 

"He  that  is  slow  to  anger,"  says  the  pro- 
verb, "is  better  than  the  mighty,  and  he  that 
ruleth  his  spirit  than  he  that  taketh  a  city." 
Great  as  was  his  self-control  in  other  matters, 


172  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

nowhere  did  Mr.  Lincoln's  slowness  to  anger 
and  nobility  of  spirit  show  itself  more  than  in 
his  dealings  with  the  generals  of  the  Civil  War. 
He  had  been  elected  President.  Congress  had 
given  him  power  far  exceeding  that  which  any 
President  had  ever  exercised  before.  As  Presi- 
dent he  was  also  Commander-in-Chief  of  the 
Army  and  Navy  of  the  United  States.  By 
proclamation  he  could  call  forth  great  armies; 
and  he  could  order  those  armies  to  go  wherever 
he  chose  to  send  them;  but  even  he  had  no 
power  to  make  generals  with  the  genius  and  the 
training  necessary  to  lead  them  instantly  to 
success.  He  had  to  work  with  the  materials  at 
hand,  and  one  by  one  he  tried  the  men  who  seemed 
best  fitted  for  the  task,  giving  each  his  fullest 
trust  and  every  aid  in  his  power.  They  were  as 
eager  for  victory  and  as  earnest  of  purpose  as 
himself,  but  in  every  case  some  misfortune  or 
some  fault  marred  the  result,  until  the  country 
grew  weary  with  waiting;  discouragement  over- 
shadowed hope,  and  misgiving  almost  engulfed 
his  own  strong  soul.  Then,  at  last,  the  right  men 
were  found,  the  battles  were  all  fought,  and  the 
war  was  at  an  end. 

His  kindness  and  patience  in  dealing  with 
the  generals  who  did  not  succeed  is  the  wonder 
of  all  who  study  the  history  of  the  Civil  War. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  173 

The  letters  he  wrote  to  them  show  better  than 
whole  volumes  of  description  could  do  the  help- 
ful and  forbearing  spirit  in  which  he  sought  to 
aid  them.  First  among  these  unsuccessful  gen- 
erals was  George  B.  McClellan,  who  had  been 
called  to  Washington  after  the  battle  of  Bull  Run 
and  placed  in  charge  of  the  great  new  army  of 
three  years'  volunteers  that  was  pouring  so 
rapidly  into  the  city.  McClellan  proved  a  won- 
derful organizer.  Under  his  skilful  direction  the 
raw  recruits  went  to  their  camps  of  instruction, 
fell  without  confusion  or  delay  into  brigades  and 
divisions,  were  supplied  with  equipments,  horses 
and  batteries,  and  put  through  a  routine  of  drill, 
tactics  and  reviews  that  soon  made  this  Army 
of  the  Potomac,  as  it  was  called,  one  of  the 
best  prepared  armies  the  world  has  ever  seen 
— a  perfect  fighting  machine  of  over  150,000 
men  and  more  than  200  guns.  General  McClellan 
excelled  in  getting  soldiers  ready  to  fight,  but 
he  did  not  succeed  in  leading  them  to  fruitful 
victory.  At  first  the  administration  had  great 
hopes  of  him  as  a  commander.  He  was  young, 
enthusiastic,  winning,  and  on  arriving  in  Wash- 
ington seemed  amazed  and  deeply  touched  by  the 
confidence  reposed  in  him.  "I  find  myself,"  he 
wrote  to  his  wife,  "in  a  new  and  strange  position 
here,  President,  cabinet,  General  Scott,  and  all, 


174  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

deferring  to  me.  By  some  strange  operation  of 
magic  I  seem  to  have  become  the  power  of  the 
land."  His  rise  in  military  rank  had  equaled  the 
inventions  of  fairy  tales.  He  had  been  only  a 
captain  during  the  Mexican  war.  Then  he  re- 
signed. Two  months  after  volunteering  for  the 
Civil  War  he  found  himself  a  Major  General  in 
the  Regular  Army.  For  a  short  time  his  zeal 
and  activity  seemed  to  justify  this  amazing  good 
fortune.  In  a  fortnight  however  he  began  to  look 
upon  himself  as  the  principal  savior  of  his  country. 
He  entered  upon  a  quarrel  with  General  Scott 
which  soon  drove  that  old  hero  into  retirement 
and  out  of  his  pathway.  He  looked  upon  the 
cabinet  as  a  set  of  "geese,"  and  seeing  that  the 
President  was  kind  and  unassuming  in  discussing 
military  affairs,  he  formed  the  habit  of  express- 
ing contempt  for  him  in  letters  to  confidential 
friends.  This  feeling  grew  until  it  soon  reached  a 
mark  of  open  disrespect,  but  the  President's  con- 
duct toward  him  did  not  change.  Mr.  Lincoln's 
nature  was  too  forgiving,  and  the  responsi- 
bility that  lay  upon  him  was  too  heavy  for  per- 
sonal resentment.  For  fifteen  months  he 
strove  to  make  McClellan  succeed  even  in 
spite  of  himself.  He  gave  him  help,  encour- 
agement, the  most  timely  suggestions.  He 
answered   his    ever-increasing   complaints   with 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  175 

unfailing  self-control.  It  was  not  that  he  did 
not  see  McClellan's  faults.  He  saw  them,  and 
felt  them  keenly.  "If  Gen.  McClellan  does 
not  want  to  use  the  army,  I  would  like  to  bor- 
row it,"  he  said  one  day,  stung  by  the  General's 
inactivity  into  a  sarcasm  he  seldom  allowed 
himself  to  use.  But  his  patience  was  not  ex- 
hausted. McClellan  had  always  more  soldiers 
than  the  enemy,  at  Antietam  nearly  double  his 
numbers,  yet  his  constant  cry  was  for  re-en- 
forcements. Regiments  were  sent  him  that 
could  ill  be  spared  from  other  points.  Even  when 
his  fault-finding  reached  the  height  of  telegraph- 
ing to  the  Secretary  of  War/'If  I  save  this  army 
now  I  tell  you  plainly  that  I  owe  no  thanks  to 
you  or  to  any  other  persons  in  Washington.  You 
have  done  your  best  to  sacrifice  this  army,"  the 
President  answered  him  kindly  and  gently,  with- 
out a  sign  of  resentment,  anxious  only  to  do 
everything  in  his  power  to  help  on  the  cause  of 
the  war.  It  was  of  no  avail.  Even  the  great 
luck  of  finding  a  copy  of  General  Lee's  orders  and 
knowing  exactly  what  his  enemy  meant  to  do, 
at  a  time  when  the  Confederate  general  had 
only  about  half  as  many  troops  as  he  had,  and 
these  were  divided  besides,  did  not  help  him  to 
success.  All  he  could  do  even  then  was  to  fight 
the  drawn  battle  of  Antietam,  and  allow  Lee  to 


176  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

get  away  safely  across  the  Potomac  River  into 
Virginia.  After  this  the  President's  long-suffer- 
ing patience  was  at  an  end,  but  he  did  not  remove 
McClellan  until  he  had  visited  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  in  person.  What  he  saw  on  that  visit 
assured  him  that  it  could  never  succeed  under 
such  a  general.  "Do  you  know  what  that  is?" 
he  asked  a  friend,  waving  his  arm  towards  the 
white  tents  of  the  great  army.  "It  is  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac,  I  suppose,"  was  the  wondering 
answer.  "So  it  is  called,"  replied  the  President, 
in  a  tone  of  suppressed  indignation.  "But  that 
is  a  mistake.  It  is  only  McClellan's  bodyguard." 
On  November  5,  1862,  McClellan  was  relieved 
from  command,  and  this  ended  his  military  career. 
There  were  others  almost  equally  trying. 
There  was  General  Fremont,  who  had  been  the 
Republican  candidate  for  President  in  1856.  At 
the  beginning  of  the  war  he  was  given  a  com- 
mand at  St.  Louis  and  charged  with  the  im- 
portant duty  of  organizing  the  military  strength 
of  the  northwest,  holding  the  State  of  Missouri 
true  to  the  Union,  and  leading  an  expedition 
down  the  Mississippi  River.  Instead  of  accom- 
plishing all  that  had  been  hoped  for,  his 
pride  of  opinion  and  unwillingness  to  accept 
help  or  take  advice  from  those  about  him, 
caused    serious    embarrassment   and    made    un- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  177 

ending  trouble.  The  President's  kindness  and 
gentleness  in  dealing  with  his  faults  were  as 
marked  as  they  were  useless. 

There  was  the  long  line  of  commanders  who 
one  after  the  other  tried  and  failed  in  the  tasks 
allotted  to  them,  while  the  country  waited  and 
lost  courage,  and  even  Mr.  Lincoln's  heart 
sank.  His  care  and  wisdom  and  sorrow  domi- 
nated the  whole  long  persistent  struggle.  That 
first  sleepless  night  of  his  after  the  battle  of 
Bull  Run  was  but  the  beginning  of  many  nights 
and  days  through  which  he  kept  unceasing 
watch.  From  the  time  in  June,  1861,  when  he 
had  been  called  upon  to  preside  over  the  coun- 
cil of  war  that  decided  upon  the  Bull  Run 
campaign,  he  devoted  every  spare  moment  to 
the  study  of  such  books  upon  the  art  of  war  as 
would  aid  him  in  solving  the  questions  that  he 
must  face  as  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  armies. 
With  his  quick  mind  and  unusual  power  of  logic 
he  made  rapid  progress  in  learning  the  fixed  and 
accepted  rules  on  which  all  military  writers  agree. 
His  mastery  of  the  difficult  science  became  so 
thorough,  and  his  understanding  of  military  situ- 
ations so  clear,  that  he  has  been  called,  by  persons 
well  fitted  to  judge,  "the  ablest  strategist  of  the 
war."  Yet  he  never  thrust  his  knowledge  upon 
his  generals.     He  recognized  that  it  was  their 


178  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

duty,  not  his,  to  fight  the  battles,  and  since  this 
was  so,  they  ought  to  be  allowed  to  fight  them 
in  their  own  way.  He  followed  their  move- 
ments with  keenest  interest  and  with  a  most 
astonishing  amount  of  knowledge,  giving  a  hint 
here,  and  a  suggestion  there,  when  he  felt  that 
he  properly  could,  but  he  rarely  gave  a  positive 
order. 

There  is  not  space  to  quote  the  many  letters 
in  which  he  showed  his  military  wisdom,  or 
his  kindly  interest  in  the  welfare  and  success 
of  the  different  generals.  One  of  the  most  re- 
markable must  however  be  quoted.  It  is  the 
letter  he  wrote  to  General  Joseph  Hooker  on 
placing  him  in  command  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  in  January,  1863,  after  McClellan's 
many  failures  had  been  followed  by  the  crush- 
ing defeat  of  the  army  under  General  McClel- 
lan's successor,  General  Burnside,  at  the  battle 
of  Fredericksburg,  on  December  13,  1862. 

"I  have  placed  you,"  he  wrote  on  giving 
General  Hooker  the  command,  "at  the  head 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Of  course  I 
have  done  this  upon  what  appear  to  me  to  be 
sufficient  reasons,  and  vet  I  think  it  best  for 
you  to  know  that  there  are  some  things  in  re- 
gard to  which  I  am  not  quite  satisfied  with  you. 
I  believe  you  to  be  a  brave  and  skilful  soldier, 


IN    GENERAL   MCCLELLAN  S   TENT 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  181 

which,  of  course,  I  like.  I  also  believe  you  do 
not  mix  politics  with  your  profession,  in  which 
you  are  right.  You  have  confidence  in  yourself, 
which  is  a  valuable,  if  not  an  indispensable  qual- 
ity. You  are  ambitious,  which,  within  reasonable 
bounds,  does  good  rather  than  harm ;  but  I  think 
that  during  General  Burnside's  command  of  the 
army  you  have  taken  council  of  your  ambition 
and  thwarted  him  as  much  as  you  could,  in  which 
you  did  a  great  wrong  to  the  country,  and  to  a 
most  meritorious  and  honorable  brother  officer.  I 
have  heard,  in  such  a  way  as  to  believe  it,  of  your 
recently  saying  that  both  the  army  and  the  Govern- 
ment needed  a  dictator.  Of  course  it  was  not  for 
this,  but  in  spite  of  it,  that  I  have  given  you  the 
command.  Only  those  generals  who  gain  suc- 
cesses can  set  up  dictators.  What  I  now  ask  of 
you  is  military  success,  and  I  will  risk  the  dictator- 
ship. The  government  will  support  you  to  the 
utmost  of  its  ability,  which  is  neither  more  nor 
less  than  it  has  done  and  will  do  for  all  command- 
ers. I  much  fear  that  the  spirit  which  you  have 
aided  to  infuse  into  the  army,  of  criticising  their 
commander  and  withholding  confidence  from 
him,  will  now  turn  upon  you.  I  shall  assist  you 
as  far  as  I  can,  to  put  it  down.  Neither  you  nor 
,  Napoleon,  if  he  were  alive  again,  could  get  any 
good  out  of  an  army  while  such  a  spirit  prevails 


182  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

in  it.  And  now,  beware  of  rashness.  Beware 
of  rashness,  but  with  energy  and  sleepless  vigi- 
lance go  forward  and  give  us  victories." 

Perhaps  no  other  piece  of  his  writing  shows 
as  this  does  how  completely  the  genius  of  the 
President  rose  to  the  full  height  of  his  duties 
and  responsibilities.  From  beginning  to  end  it 
speaks  the  language  and  breathes  the  spirit  of 
the  great  ruler,  secure  in  popular  confidence  and 
in  official  authority. 

Though  so  many  of  the  great  battles  during 
the  first  half  of  the  war  were  won  by  the  Con- 
federates, military  successes  came  to  the  North 
of  course  from  time  to  time.  With  such  fine 
armies  and  such  earnest  generals  the  tide  of 
battle  could  not  be  all  one  way;  and  even  when 
the  generals  made  mistakes,  the  heroic  fighting 
and  endurance  of  the  soldiers  and  under-officers 
gathered  honor  out  of  defeat,  and  shed  the  luster 
of  renown  over  results  of  barren  failure.  But 
it  was  a  weary  time,  and  the  outlook  was  very 
dark.  The  President  never  despaired.  On  the 
most  dismal  day  of  the  whole  dismal  summer  of 
1862  he  sent  Secretary  Seward  to  New  York 
with  a  confidential  letter  full  of  courage,  to  be 
shown  such  of  the  governors  of  free  States  as 
could  be  hastily  summoned  to  meet  him  there.  In 
it  he  said :  "I  expect  to  maintain  this  contest  until 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  183 

successful,  or  till  I  die,  or  am  conquered,  or  my 
term  expires,  or  Congress  or  the  country  forsake 
me,"  and  he  asked  for  100,000  fresh  volunteers 
with  which  to  carry  on  the  war.  His  confidence 
was  not  misplaced.  The  governors  of  eighteen 
free  States  offered  him  three  times  the  number, 
and  still  other  calls  for  troops  followed.  Soon 
a  popular  song,  "We  are  coming,  Father  Abra- 
ham, three  hundred  thousand  strong,"  showed 
the  faith  and  trust  of  the  people  in  the  man  at 
the  head  of  the  Government,  and  how  cheerfully 
they  met  the  great  calls  upon  their  patriotism. 

So,  week  after  week  and  month  after  month, 
he  faced  the  future,  never  betraying  a  fear  that 
the  Union  would  not  triumph  in  the  end,  but 
grieving  sorely  at  the  long  delay.  Many  who 
were  not  so  sure  came  to  him  with  their  troubles. 
He  was  beset  by  night  and  by  day  by  people  who 
had  advice  to  give  or  complaints  to  make.  They 
besought  him  to  dismiss  this  or  that  General, 
to  order  such  and  such  a  military  movement;  to 
do  a  hundred  things  that  he,  in  his  great  wisdom, 
felt  were  not  right,  or  for  which  the  time  had 
not  yet  come.  Above  all,  he  was  implored  to 
take  some  decided  and  far-reaching  action  upon 
slavery. 


IX 

FREEDOM    FOR   THE    SLAVES 

BY  no  means  the  least  of  the  evils  of  slavery- 
was  a  dread  which  had  haunted  every 
southern  household  from  the  beginning  of  the 
government  that  the  slaves  might  one  day  rise 
in  revolt  and  take  sudden  vengeance  upon  their 
masters.  This  vague  terror  was  greatly  in- 
creased by  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War.  It 
stands  to  the  lasting  credit  of  the  negro  race 
that  the  wrongs  of  their  long  bondage  pro- 
voked them  to  no  such  crime,  and  that  the  war 
seems  not  to  have  suggested,  much  less  started 
any  such  attempt.  Indeed,  even  when  urged  to 
violence  by  white  leaders,  as  the  slaves  of  Mary- 
land had  been  in  1859  during  John  Brown's  raid 
at  Harper's  Ferry,  they  had  refused  to  respond. 
Nevertheless  it  was  plain  from  the  first  that 
slavery  was  to  play  an  important  part  in  the  Civil 
War.  Not  only  were  the  people  of  the  South 
battling  for  the  principle  of  slavery;  their  slaves 
were  a  great  source  of  military  strength.    They 

184 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  185 

were  used  by  the  Confederates  in  building  forts, 
hauling  supplies,  and  in  a  hundred  ways  that 
added  to  the  effectiveness  of  their  armies  in  the 
field.  On  the  other  hand  the  very  first  result 
of  the  war  was  to  give  adventurous  or  discon- 
tented slaves  a  chance  to  escape  into  Union  camps, 
where,  even  against  orders  to  the  contrary, 
they  found  protection  for  the  sake  of  the  help 
they  could  give  as  cooks,  servants,  or  teamsters, 
the  information  they  brought  about  the  move- 
ments of  the  enemy,  or  the  great  service  they 
were  able  to  render  as  guides.  Practically  there- 
fore, at  the  very  start,  the  war  created  a  bond 
of  mutual  sympathy  between  the  southern  negro 
and  the  Union  volunteer;  and  as  fast  as  Union 
troops  advanced  and  secession  masters  fled,  a 
certain  number  found  freedom  in  Union  camps. 
At  some  points  this  became  a  positive  em- 
barrassment to  Union  commanders.  A  few 
days  after  General  Butler  took  command  of  the 
Union  troops  at  Fortress  Monroe  in  May,  1861, 
the  agent  of  a  rebel  master  came  to  insist  on  the 
return  of  three  slaves,  demanding  them  under  the 
fugitive-slave  law.  Butler  replied  that  since  their 
master  claimed  Virginia  to  be  a  foreign  country 
and  no  longer  a  part  of  the  United  States,  he 
could  not  at  the  same  time  claim  that  the  fugitive- 
slave  law  was  in  force,  and  that  his  slaves  would 


1 86  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

not  be  given  up  unless  he  returned  and  took  the 
oath  of  allegiance  to  the  United  States.  In  re- 
porting this,  a  newspaper  pointed  out  that  as  the 
breastworks  and  batteries  which  had  risen  so 
rapidly  for  Confederate  defense  were  built  by 
slave  labor,  negroes  were  undoubtedly  "con- 
traband of  war,"  like  powder  and  shot,  and  other 
military  supplies,  and  should  no  more  be  given 
back  to  the  rebels  than  so  many  cannon  or  guns. 
The  idea  was  so  pertinent,  and  the  justice  of  it 
so  plain  that  the  name  "contraband"  sprang  at 
once  into  use.  But  while  this  happy  explanation 
had  more  convincing  effect  on  popular  thought 
than  a  volume  of  discussion,  it  did  not  solve  the 
whole  question.  By  the  end  of  July  General 
Butler  had  on  his  hands  900  "contrabands,"  men, 
women  and  children  of  all  ages,  and  he  wrote 
to  inquire  what  was  their  real  condition.  Were 
they  slaves  or  free?  Could  they  be  considered 
fugitive  slaves  when  their  masters  had  run  away 
and  left  them?  How  should  they  be  disposed  of? 
It  was  a  knotty  problem,  and  upon  its  solution 
might  depend  the  loyalty  or  secession  of  the 
border  slave  States  of  Maryland,  West  Virginia, 
Kentucky  and  Missouri,  which,  up  to  that  time, 
had  not  decided  whether  to  remain  in  the  Union 
or  to  cast  their  fortunes  with  the  South. 

In  dealing  with  this  perplexing  subject  Mr. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  187 

Lincoln  kept  in  mind  one  of  his  favorite  stories : 
the  one  on  the  Methodist  Presiding  Elder  who 
was  riding  about  his  circuit  during  the  spring 
freshets.  A  young  and  anxious  companion  asked 
how  they  should  ever  be  able  to  cross  the 
swollen  waters  of  Fox  River,  which  they  were  ap- 
proaching, and  the  elder  quieted  him  by  saying 
that  he  made  it  the  rule  of  his  life  never  to  cross 
Fox  River  until  he  came  to  it.  The  President, 
following  this  rule,  did  not  immediately  decide 
the  question,  but  left  it  to  be  treated  at  the  dis- 
cretion of  each  commander.  Under  this  theory 
some  commanders  admitted  black  people  to  their 
camps,  while  others  refused  to  receive  them. 
The  curt  formula  of  General  Orders:  "We  are 
neither  negro  stealers  nor  negro  catchers,"  was 
easily  read  to  justify  either  course.  Congress 
greatly  advanced  the  problem,  shortly  after  the 
battle  of  Bull  Run,  by  passing  a  law  which  took 
away  a  master's  right  to  his  slave,  when,  with 
his  consent,  such  slave  was  employed  in  service 
or  labor  hostile  to  the  United  States. 

On  the  general  question  of  slavery,  the  Presi- 
dent's mind  was  fully  made  up.  He  felt  that 
he  had  no  right  to  interfere  with  slavery  where 
slavery  was  lawful,  just  because  he  himself  did 
not  happen  to  like  it;  for  he  had  sworn  to 
do  all  in  his  power  to  "preserve,  protect  and 


188  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

defend"  the  government  and  its  laws,  and  slavery- 
was  lawful  in  the  southern  States.  When  free- 
ing the  slaves  should  become  necessary  in  order 
to  preserve  the  Government,  then  it  would  be 
his  duty  to  free  them;  until  that  time  came,  it 
was  equally  his  duty  to  let  them  alone. 

Twice  during  the  early  part  of  the  war  mili- 
tary commanders  issued  orders  freeing  slaves 
in  the  districts  over  which  they  had  control, 
and  twice  he  refused  to  allow  these  orders  to 
stand.  "No  commanding  general  should  do 
such  a  thing  upon  his  responsibility,  without  con- 
sulting him,"  he  said;  and  he  added  that  whether 
he,  as  Commander-in-Chief,  had  the  power  to 
free  slaves,  and  whether  at  any  time  the  use  of 
such  power  should  become  necessary,  were  ques- 
tions which  he  reserved  to  himself.  He  did  not 
feel  justified  in  leaving  such  decisions  to  com- 
manders in  the  field.  He  even  refused  at  that 
time  to  allow  Secretary  Cameron  to  make  a 
public  announcement  that  the  government  might 
find  it  necessary  to  arm  slaves  and  employ  them 
as  soldiers.  He  would  not  cross  Fox  River  until 
he  came  to  it.  He  would  not  take  any  measure 
until  he  felt  it  to  be  absolutely  necessary. 

Only  a  few  months  later  he  issued  his  first 
proclamation  of  emancipation;  but  he  did  not 
do  so  until  convinced  that  he  must  do  this  in 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  189 

order  to  put  down  the  rebellion.  Long  ago  he 
had  considered  and  in  his  own  mind  adopted 
a  plan  of  dealing  with  the  slavery  question — the 
simple,  easy  plan  which,  while  a  member  of 
Congress,  he  had  proposed  for  the  District  of 
Columbia — that  on  condition  of  the  slave-owners 
voluntarily  giving  up  their  slaves,  they  should 
be  paid  a  fair  price  for  them  by  the  Federal  gov- 
ernment. Delaware  was  a  slave  State,  and 
seemed  an  excellent  place  in  which  to  try  this 
experiment  of  "compensated  emancipation,"  as 
it  was  called;  for  there  were,  all  told,  only  1798 
slaves  left  in  the  State.  Without  any  public 
announcement  of  his  purpose  he  offered  to  the 
citizens  of  Delaware,  through  their  representative 
in  Congress,  four  hundred  dollars  for  each  of 
these  slaves,  the  payment  to  be  made,  not  all  at 
once,  but  yearly,  during  a  period  of  thirty-one 
years.  He  believed  that  if  Delaware  could  be 
induced  to  accept  this  offer,  Maryland  might 
follow  her  example,  and  that  afterward  other 
States  would  allow  themselves  to  be  led  along 
the  same  easy  way.  The  Delaware  House  of 
Representatives  voted  in  favor  of  the  proposition, 
but  five  of  the  nine  members  of  the  Delaware 
senate  scornfully  repelled  the  "abolition  bribe," 
as  they  chose  to  call  it,  and  the  project  withered 
in  the  bud. 


190  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

Mr.  Lincoln  did  not  stop  at  this  failure,  but, 
on  March  6,  1862,  sent  a  special  message  to  the 
Senate  and  House  of  Representatives  recom- 
mending that  Congress  adopt  a  joint  resolution 
favoring  and  practically  offering  gradual  com- 
pensated emancipation  to  any  State  that  saw 
fit  to  accept  it;  pointing  out  at  the  same  time 
that  the  Federal  government  claimed  no  right 
to  interfere  with  slavery  within  the  States,  and 
that  if  the  offer  were  accepted  it  must  be  done 
as  a  matter  of  free  choice. 

The  Republican  journals  of  the  North  devoted 
considerable  space  to  discussing  the  President's 
plan,  which,  in  the  main,  was  favorably  received; 
but  it  was  thought  that  it  must  fail  on  the  score 
of  expense.  The  President  answered  this  objec- 
tion in  a  private  letter  to  a  Senator,  proving  that 
less  than  one-half  day's  cost  of  war  would  pay 
for  all  the  slaves  in  Delaware  at  four  hundred 
dollars  each,  and  less  than  eighty-seven  days' 
cost  of  war  would  pay  for  all  in  Delaware,  Mary- 
land, the  District  of  Columbia,  Kentucky  and 
Missouri.  "Do  you  doubt,"  he  asked,  that  tak- 
ing such  a  step  "on  the  part  of  those  States  and 
this  District  would  shorten  the  war  more  than 
eighty-seven  days,  and  thus  be  an  actual  saving 
of  expense?" 

Both  houses  of  Congress  favored  the  resolu- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  191 

tion,  and  also  passed  a  bill  immediately  free- 
ing- the  slaves  in  the  District  of  Columbia  on 
the  payment  to  their  loyal  owners  of  three 
hundred  dollars  for  each  slave.  This  last  bill 
was  signed  by  the  President  and  became  a  law 
on  April  16,  1862.  So,  although  he  had  been 
unable  to  bring  it  about  when  a  member  of 
Congress  thirteen  years  before,  it  was  he,  after 
all,  who  finally  swept  away  that  scandal  of  the 
"negro  livery-stable"  in  the  shadow  of  the 
dome  of  the  Capitol. 

Congress  as  well  as  the  President  was  thus 
pledged  to  compensated  emancipation,  and  if 
any  of  the  border  slave  States  had  shown  a 
willingness  to  accept  the  generosity  of  the  gov- 
ernment, their  people  might  have  been  spared 
the  loss  that  overtook  all  slave-owners  on  the 
first  of  January,  1863.  The  President  twice 
called  the  representatives  and  senators  of  these 
States  to  the  White  House,  and  urged  his  plan 
most  eloquently,  but  nothing  came  of  it.  Mean- 
time, the  military  situation  continued  most  dis- 
couraging. The  advance  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  upon  Richmond  became  a  retreat;  the 
commanders  in  the  West  could  not  get  control 
of  the  Mississippi  River;  and  worst  of  all,  in 
spite  of  their  cheering  assurance  that  "We  are 
coming,  Father  Abraham,  three  hundred  thou- 


192  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

sand  strong,"  the  people  of  the  country  were 
saddened  and  filled  with  the  most  gloomy  fore- 
bodings because  of  the  President's  call  for  so 
many  new  troops. 

"It  had  got  to  be  midsummer,  1862,"  Mr. 
Lincoln  said,  in  telling  an  artist  friend  the 
history  of  his  most  famous  official  act.  "Things 
had  gone  on  from  bad  to  worse,  until  I  felt 
that  we  had  reached  the  end  of  our  rope  on  the 
plan  of  operations  we  had  been  pursuing;  that 
we  had  about  played  our  last  card,  and  must 
change  our  tactics  or  lose  the  game.  I  now 
determined  upon  the  adoption  of  the  emancipation 
policy,  and  without  consultation  with,  or  the 
knowledge  of  the  cabinet,  I  prepared  the  original 
draft  of  the  proclamation,  and  after  much  anxious 
thought,  called  a  cabinet  meeting  upon  the  sub- 
ject. ...  I  said  to  the  cabinet  that  I  had 
resolved  upon  this  step,  and  had  not  called  them 
together  to  ask  their  advice,  but  to  lay  the  subject- 
matter  of  a  proclamation  before  them,  sugges- 
tions as  to  which  would  be  in  order  after  they 
had  heard  it  read." 

It  was  on  July  22  that  the  President  read  to 
his  cabinet  the  draft  of  this  first  emancipation 
proclamation,  which,  after  announcing  that  at 
the  next  meeting  of  Congress  he  would  again 
offer  compensated  emancipation  to  such  States 


II 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  195 

as  chose  to  accept  it,  went  on  to  order  as 
Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Army  and  Navy 
of  the  United  States,  that  the  slaves  in  all 
States  which  should  be  in  rebellion  against  the 
government  on  January  1,  1863,  should  "then, 
thenceforward  and  forever  be  free." 

Mr.  Lincoln  had  given  a  hint  of  this  intended 
step  to  Mr.  Seward  and  Mr.  Welles,  but  to  all 
the  other  members  of  the  cabinet  it  came  as  a 
complete  surprise.  One  thought  it  would  cost 
the  Republicans  the  fall  elections.  Another  pre- 
ferred that  emancipation  should  be  proclaimed 
by  military  commanders  in  their  several  military 
districts.  Secretary  Seward,  while  approving 
the  measure,  suggested  that  it  would  better  be 
postponed  until  it  could  be  given  to  the  country 
after  a  victory,  instead  of  issuing  it,  as  would  be 
the  case  then,  upon  the  greatest  disasters  of  the 
war.  "The  wisdom  of  the  view  of  the  Secretary 
of  State  struck  me  with  very  great  force,"  Mr. 
Lincoln's  recital  continues.  "It  was  an  aspect 
of  the  case  that,  in  all  my  thought  upon  the  sub- 
ject, I  had  entirely  overlooked.  The  result  was 
that  I  put  the  draft  of  the  proclamation  aside, 
as  you  do  your  sketch  for  a  picture,  waiting  for 
a  victory." 

The  secrets  of  the  administration  were  well 
kept,  and  no  hint  came  to  the  public  that  the 


196  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

President  had  proposed  such  a  measure  to  his 
cabinet.  As  there  was  at  the  moment  little  in 
the  way  of  war  news  to  attract  attention,  news- 
papers and  private  individuals  turned  a  sharp 
fire  of  criticism  upon  Mr.  Lincoln.  For  this 
they  seized  upon  the  ever-useful  text  of  the 
slavery  question.  Some  of  them  protested  in- 
dignantly that  the  President  was  going  too  fast ; 
others  clamored  as  loudly  that  he  had  been  alto- 
gether too  slow.  His  decision,  as  we  know,  was 
unalterably  taken,  although  he  was  not  yet  ready 
to  announce  it.  Therefore,  while  waiting  for  a 
victory  he  had  to  perform  the  difficult  task  of 
restraining  the  impatience  of  both  sides.  This 
he  did  in  very  positive  language.  To  a  man  in 
Louisiana,  who  complained  that  Union  feeling 
was  being  crushed  out  by  the  army  in  that  State, 
he  wrote: 

"I  am  a  patient  man,  always  willing  to  for- 
give on  the  Christian  terms  of  repentance,  and 
also  to  give  ample  time  for  repentance.  Still, 
I  must  save  this  government  if  possible.  What 
I  cannot  do,  of  course  I  will  not  do;  but  it  may 
as  well  be  understood,  once  for  all,  that  I 
shall  not  surrender  this  game  leaving  any 
available  card  unplayed."  Two  days  later  he 
answered  another  Louisiana  critic.  "What  would 
you  do  in  my  position?     Would  you  drop  the 


SIGNING   THE    EMANCIPATION    PROCLAMATION 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  199 

war  where  it  is?  Or  would  you  prosecute  it  in 
future  with  elder-stalk  squirts  charged  with  rose- 
water?  Would  you  deal  lighter  blows  rather 
than  heavier  ones  ?  Weald  you  give  up  the  contest 
leaving  any  available  means  unapplied  ?  I  am  in 
no  boastful  mood.  I  shall  not  do  more  than  I 
can,  and  I  shall  do  all  I  can,  to  save  the  govern- 
ment, which  is  my  sworn  duty,  as  well  as  my 
personal  inclination.  I  shall  do  nothing  in  malice. 
What  I  deal  with  is  too  vast  for  malicious 
dealing." 

The  President  could  afford  to  overlook  the 
abuse  of  hostile  newspapers,  but  he  also  had  to 
meet  the  criticisms  of  over-zealous  Republicans. 
The  prominent  Republican  editor,  Horace 
Greeley,  printed  in  his  paper,  the  "New  York 
Tribune,"  a  long  "Open  Letter,"  ostentatiously 
addressed  to  Mr.  Lincoln,  full  of  unjust  accusa- 
tions, his  general  charge  being  that  the  Presi- 
dent and  many  army  officers  were  neglecting 
their  duty  through  a  kindly  feeling  for  slavery. 
The  open  letter  which  Mr.  Lincoln  wrote  in 
reply  is  remarkable  not  alone  for  the  skill  with 
which  he  answered  this  attack,  but  also  for  its 
great  dignity. 

"As  to  the  policy  I  'seem  to  be  pursuing/  as 
you  say,  I  have  not  meant  to  leave  anyone  in 
doubt.  .  .  .  My  paramount  object  in  this  strug- 


200  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

gle  is  to  save  the  Union,  and  is  not  either  to 
save  or  to  destroy  slavery.  If  I  could  save  the 
Union  without  freeing  any  slave,  I  would  do 
it;  and  if  I  could  save  it  by  freeing  all  the 
slaves  I  would  do  it;  and  if  I  could  save  it  by 
freeing  some  and  leaving  others  alone  I  would 
also  do  that.  What  I  do  about  slavery  and  the 
colored  race,  I  do  because  I  believe  it  helps  to 
save  the  Union,  and  what  I  forbear  I  forbear 
because  I  do  not  believe  it  would  help  to  save 
the  Union.  I  shall  do  less  whenever  I  shall 
believe  what  I  am  doing  hurts  the  cause,  and  I 
shall  do  more  whenever  I  shall  believe  doing 
more  will  help  the  cause.  I  shall  try  to  correct 
errors  when  shown  to  be  errors,  and  I  shall 
adopt  new  views  so  fast  as  they  shall  appear 
to  be  true  views.  I  have  here  stated  my  pur- 
pose according  to  my  view  of  official  duty,  and 
I  intend  no  modification  of  my  oft-expressed 
personal  wish  that  all  men  everywhere  could 
be  free." 

He  was  waiting  for  victory,  but  victory  was 
slow  to  come.  Instead  the  Union  army  suf- 
fered another  defeat  at  the  second  battle  of  Bull 
Run  on  August  30,  1862.  After  this  the  pres- 
sure upon  him  to  take  some  action  upon  slavery 
became  stronger  than  ever.  On  September  13 
he  was  visited  by  a  company  of  ministers  from 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  201 

the  churches  of  Chicago,  who  came  expressly  to 
urge  him  to  free  the  slaves  at  once.  In  the  actual 
condition  of  things  he  could  of  course  neither 
safely  satisfy  them  nor  deny  them,  and  his  reply, 
while  perfectly  courteous,  had  in  it  a  tone  of 
rebuke  that  showed  the  state  of  irritation  and 
high  sensitiveness  under  which  he  was  living: 

"I  am  approached  with  the  most  opposite 
opinions  and  advice,  and  that  by  religious  men, 
who  are  equally  certain  that  they  represent  the 
Divine  will.  ...  I  hope  it  will  not  be  irrev- 
erent for  me  to  say  that  if  it  is  probable  that 
God  would  reveal  his  will  to  others  on  a  point 
so  connected  with  my  duty,  it  might  be  sup- 
posed he  would  reveal  it  directly  to  me.  .  .  . 
What  good  would  a  proclamation  of  emancipa- 
tion from  me  do,  especially  as  we  are  now 
situated?  I  do  not  want  to  issue  a  document 
that  the  whole  world  will  see  must  necessarily 
be  inoperative,  like  the  Pope's  bull  against  the 
comet."  "Do  not  misunderstand  me.  ...  I 
have  not  decided  against  a  proclamation  of  liberty 
to  the  slaves;  but  hold  the  matter  under  advise- 
ment. And  I  can  assure  you  that  the  subject  is 
on  my  mind  by  day  and  night  more  than  any 
other.  Whatever  shall  appear  to  be  God's  will, 
I  will  do/' 

Four  days  after  this  interview  the  battle  of 


202  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

Antietam  was  fought,  and  when,  after  a  few 
days  of  uncertainty  it  was  found  that  it  could 
be  reasonably  claimed  as  a  Union  victory,  the 
President  resolved  to  carry  out  his  long-matured 
purpose.  Secretary  Chase  in  his  diary  recorded 
very  fully  what  occurred  on  that  ever-memora- 
ble September  22,  1862.  After  some  playful  talk 
upon  other  matters,  Mr.  Lincoln,  taking  a  graver 
tone,  said: 

"Gentlemen:  I  have,  as  you  are  aware, 
thought  a  great  deal  about  the  relation  of  this 
war  to  slavery,  and  you  all  remember  that 
several  weeks  ago  I  read  to  you  an  order  I  had 
prepared  on  this  subject,  which,  on  account 
of  objections  made  by  some  of  you,  was  not 
issued.  Ever  since  then  my  mind  has  been 
much  occupied  with  this  subject,  and  I  have 
thought,  all  along,  that  the  time  for  acting  on 
it  might  probably  come.  I  think  the  time  has 
come  now.  I  wish  it  was  a  better  time.  I  wish 
that  we  were  in  a  better  condition.  The  action 
of  the  army  against  the  rebels  has  not  been  quite 
what  I  should  have  best  liked.  But  they  have 
been  driven  out  of  Maryland,  and  Pennsylvania 
is  no  longer  in  danger  of  invasion.  When  the 
rebel  army  was  at  Frederick  I  determined,  as 
soon  as  it  should  be  driven  out  of  Maryland,  to 
issue  a  proclamation  of  emancipation,  such  as  I 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  203 

thought  most  likely  to  be  useful.  I  said  nothing 
to  anyone,  but  I  made  the  promise  to  myself,  and 
—  [hesitating  a  little]  — to  my  Maker.  The  rebel 
army  is  now  driven  out,  and  I  am  going  to  fulfil 
that  promise.  I  have  got  you  together  to  hear 
what  I  have  written  down.  I  do  not  wish  your 
advice  about  the  main  matter,  for  that  I  have 
determined  for  myself.  This  I  say,  without  in- 
tending anything  but  respect  few  any  one  of  you. 
But  I  already  know  the  views  of  each  on  this 
question.  ...  I  have  considered  them  as  thor- 
oughly and  carefully  as  I  can.  What  I  have 
written  is  that  which  my  reflections  have  deter- 
mined me  to  say.  If  there  is  anything  in  the 
expressions  I  use,  or  in  any  minor  matter  which 
any  one  of  you  thinks  had  best  be  changed,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  receive  the  suggestions.  One 
other  observation  I  will  make.  I  know  very  well 
that  many  others  might,  in  this  matter  as  in 
others,  do  better  than  I  can ;  and  if  I  was  satisfied 
that  the  public  confidence  was  more  fully  pos- 
sessed by  any  one  of  them  than  by  me,  and  knew 
of  any  constitutional  way  in  which  he  could  be 
put  in  my  place,  he  should  have  it.  I  would  gladly 
yield  it  to  him.  But,  though  I  believe  that  I  have 
not  so  much  of  the  confidence  of  the  people  as  I 
had  some  time  since,  I  do  not  know  that,  all  things 
considered,  any  other  person  has  more ;  and  how- 


204  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

ever  this  may  be,  there  is  no  way  in  which  I 
can  have  any  other  man  put  where  I  am.  I  am 
here;  I  must  do  the  best  I  can,  and  bear  the 
responsibility  of  taking  the  course  which  I  feel 
I  ought  to  take." 

It  was  in  this  humble  spirit,  and  with  this 
firm  sense  of  duty  that  the  great  proclamation 
was  given  to  the  world.  One  hundred  days 
later  he  completed  the  act  by  issuing  the  final 
proclamation  of  emancipation. 

It  has  been  a  long-established  custom  in 
Washington  for  the  officials  of  the  government 
to  go  on  the  first  day  of  January  to  the  Execu- 
tive Mansion  to  pay  their  respects  to  the  Presi- 
dent and  his  wife.  The  judges  of  the  courts 
go  at  one  hour,  the  foreign  diplomats  at  another, 
members  of  Congress  and  senators  and  officers 
of  the  Army  and  Navy  at  still  another.  One  by 
one  these  various  official  bodies  pass  in  rapid  suc- 
cession before  the  head  of  the  nation,  wishing 
him  success  and  prosperity  in  the  New  Year.  The 
occasion  is  made  gay  with  music  and  flowers  and 
bright  uniforms,  and  has  a  social  as  well  as  an 
official  character.  Even  in  war  times  such  cus- 
toms were  kept  up,  and  in  spite  of  his  load  of 
care,  the  President  was  expected  to  find  time 
and  heart  for  the  greetings  and  questions  and 
hand-shakings  of  this  and  other  state  ceremonies. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  205 

Ordinarily  it  was  not  hard  for  him.  He  liked 
to  meet  people,  and  such  occasions  were  a  positive 
relief  from  the  mental  strain  of  his  official  work. 
It  is  to  be  questioned,  however,  whether,  on  this 
day,  his  mind  did  not  leave  the  passing  stream 
of  people  before  him,  to  dwell  on  the  proclamation 
he  was  so  soon  to  sign. 

At  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  after 
full  three  hours  of  such  greetings  and  handshak- 
ings, when  his  own  hand  was  so  weary  it  could 
scarcely  hold  a  pen,  the  President  and  perhaps 
a  dozen  friends,  went  up  to  the  Executive  Office, 
and  there,  without  any  pre-arranged  ceremony, 
he  signed  his  name  to  the  greatest  state  paper 
of  the  century,  which  banished  the  curse  of 
slavery  from  our  land,and  set  almost  four  million 
people  free. 


X 


THE    MAN    WHO    WAS    PRESIDENT 

THE  way  Mr.  Lincoln  signed  this  most  im- 
portant state  paper  was  thoroughly  in  keep- 
ing with  his  nature.  He  hated  all  shams  and 
show  and  pretense,  and  being  absolutely  without 
affectation  of  any  kind,  it  would  never  have  oc- 
curred to  him  to  pose  for  effect  while  signing 
the  Emancipation  Proclamation  or  any  other 
paper.  He  never  thought  of  himself  as  a  Presi- 
dent to  be  set  up  before  a  multitude  and  admired, 
but  always  as  a  President  charged  with  duties 
which  he  owed  to  every  citizen.  In  fulfilling 
these  he  did  not  stand  upon  ceremony,  but  took 
the  most  direct  way  to  the  end  he  had  in  view. 

It  is  not  often  that  a  President  pleads  a  cause 
before  Congress.  Mr.  Lincoln  did  not  find  it 
beneath  his  dignity  at  one  time  to  go  in  person 
to  the  Capitol,  and  calling  a  number  of  the  leading 
senators  and  representatives  around  him,  explain 
to  them,  with  the  aid  of  a  map,  his  reasons  for 
believing  that  the  final  stand  of  the  Confederates 

206 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  207 

would  be  made  in  that  part  of  the  South  where 
the  seven  States  of  Virginia,  North  Carolina, 
South  Carolina,  Georgia,  Tennessee,  Kentucky 
and  West  Virginia  come  together;  and  strive  in 
this  way  to  interest  them  in  the  sad  plight  of  the 
Joyal  people  of  Tennessee  who  were  being  perse- 
cuted by  the  Confederate  government,  but  whose 
mountainous  region  might,  with  a  little  help,  be 
made  a  citadel  of  Union  strength  in  the  very 
heart  of  this  stronghold  of  rebellion. 

In  his  private  life  he  was  entirely  simple  and 
unaffected.  Yet  he  had  a  deep  sense  of  what 
was  due  his  office,  and  took  part  with  becoming 
dignity  in  all  official  or  public  ceremonies.  He 
received  the  diplomats  sent  to  Washington  from 
the  courts  of  Europe  with  a  formal  and  quiet 
reserve  which  made  them  realize  at  once  that 
although  this  son  of  the  people  had  been  born 
in  a  log  cabin,  he  was  ruler  of  a  great  nation, 
and  more  than  that,  was  a  prince  by  right  of  his 
own  fine  instincts  and  good  breeding. 

He  was  ever  gentle  and  courteous,  but  with 
a  few  quiet  words  he  could  silence  a  bore  who 
had  come  meaning  to  talk  to  him  for  hours.  For 
his  friends  he  had  always  a  ready  smile  and 
a  quaintly  turned  phrase.  His  sense  of  humor 
was  his  salvation.  Without  it  he  must  have 
died   of    the    strain    and    anxiety   of   the    Civil 


208  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

War.  There  was  something  almost  pathetic  in 
the  way  he  would  snatch  a  moment  from  his 
pressing  duties  and  gravest  cares  to  listen  to  a 
good  story  or  indulge  in  a  hearty  laugh.  Some 
people  could  not  understand  this.  To  one  mem- 
ber of  his  cabinet,  at  least,  it  seemed  strange  and 
unfitting  that  he  should  read  aloud  to  them  a 
chapter  from  a  humorous  book  by  Artemus  Ward 
before  taking  up  the  weighty  matter  of  the  Eman- 
cipation Proclamation.  From  their  point  of  view 
it  showed  lack  of  feeling  and  frivolity  of  char- 
acter, when,  in  truth,  it  was  the  very  depth  of 
his  feeling,  and  the  intensity  of  his  distress  at 
the  suffering  of  the  war,  that  led  him  to  seek 
relief  in  laughter,  to  gather  from  the  comedy  of 
life  strength  to  go  on  and  meet  its  sternest 
tragedy. 

He  was  a  social  man.  He  could  not  fully 
enjoy  even  a  jest  alone.  He  wanted  somebody 
to  share  the  pleasure  with  him.  Often  when 
care  kept  him  awake  late  at  night  he  would 
wander  through  the  halls  of  the  Executive  Man- 
sion, and  coming  to  the  room  where  his  secre- 
taries were  still  at  work,  would  stop  to  read  to 
them  some  poem,  or  a  passage  from  Shakspere, 
or  a  bit  from  one  of  the  humorous  books  in  which 
he  found  relief.  No  one  knew  better  than  he 
what  could  be  cured,  and  what  must  be  patiently 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  209 

endured.  To  every  difficulty  that  he  could  re- 
move he  gave  cheerful  and  uncomplaining 
thought  and  labor.  The  burdens  he  could  not 
shake  off  he  bore  with  silent  courage,  lightening 
them  whenever  possible  with  the  laughter  that 
he  once  described  as  the  "universal  joyous  ever- 
green of  life." 

It  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  he  cared 
only  for  humorous  reading.  Occasionally  he 
read  a  scientific  book  with  great  interest,  but  his 
duties  left  him  little  time  for  such  indulgences. 
Few  men  knew  the  Bible  more  thoroughly  than 
he  did,  and  his  speeches  are  full  of  scriptural 
quotations.  The  poem  beginning  "Oh,  why 
should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud?"  was  one 
of  his  favorites,  and  Dr.  Holmes's  "Last  Leaf" 
was  another.  Shakespere  was  his  constant  de- 
light. A  copy  of  Shakespere's  works  was  even 
to  be  found  in  the  busy  Executive  Office,  from 
which  most  books  were  banished.  The  President 
not  only  liked  to  read  the  great  poet's  plays,  but 
to  see  them  acted;  and  when  the  gifted  actor 
Hackett  came  to  Washington,  he  was  invited  to 
the  White  House,  where  the  two  discussed  the 
character  of  Falstaff,  and  the  proper  reading  of 
many  scenes  and  passages. 

While  he  was  President,  Mr.  Lincoln  did  not 
attempt  to  read  the  newspapers.    His  days  were 


2io  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

long,  beginning  early  and  ending  late,  but  they 
were  not  long  enough  for  that.  One  of  his 
secretaries  brought  him  a  daily  memorandum  of 
the  important  news  they  contained.  His  mail 
was  so  enormous  that  he  personally  read  only 
about  one  in  every  hundred  of  the  letters  sent 
him. 

His  time  was  principally  taken  up  with  inter- 
views with  people  on  matters  of  importance, 
with  cabinet  meetings,  conferences  with  his 
generals,  and  other  affairs  requiring  his  close 
and  immediate  attention.  If  he  had  leisure  he 
would  take  a  drive  in  the  late  afternoon,  or  per- 
haps steal  away  into  the  grounds  south  of  the 
Executive  Mansion  to  test  some  new  kind  of 
gun,  if  its  inventor  had  been  fortunate  enough 
to  bring  it  to  his  notice.  He  was  very  quick  to 
understand  mechanical  contrivances,  and  would 
often  suggest  improvements  that  had  not  oc- 
curred to  the  inventor  himself. 

For  many  years  it  has  been  the  fashion  to 
call  Mr.  Lincoln  homely.  He  was  very  tall,  and 
very  thin.  His  eyes  were  deep-sunken,  his  skin 
of  a  sallow  pallor,  his  hair  coarse,  black,  and 
unruly.  Yet  he  was  neither  ungraceful,  nor 
awkward,  nor  ugly.  His  large  features  fitted  his 
large  frame,  and  his  large  hands  and  feet  were 
but  right  on  a  body  that  measured  six  feet  four 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  211 

inches.  His  was  a  sad  and  thoughtful  face,  and 
from  boyhood  he  had  carried  a  load  of  care.  It 
was  small  wonder  that  when  alone,  or  absorbed 
in  thought,  the  face  should  take  on  deep  lines, 
the  eyes  appear  as  if  seeing  something  beyond 
the  vision  of  other  men,  and  the  shoulders  stoop, 
as  though  they  too  were  bearing  a  weight.  But 
in  a  moment  all  would  be  changed.  The  deep  eyes 
could  flash,  or  twinkle  merrily  with  humor,  or 
look  out  from  under  overhanging  brows  as  they 
did  upon  the  Five  Points  children  in  kindliest 
gentleness.  In  public  speaking,  his  tall  body  rose 
to  its  full  height,  his  head  was  thrown  back,  his 
face  seemed  transfigured  with  the  fire  and  earn- 
estness of  his  thought,  and  his  voice  took  on  a 
high  clear  tenor  tone  that  carried  his  words  and 
ideas  far  out  over  the  listening  crowds.  At  such 
moments,  when  answering  Douglas  in  the  heat 
of  their  joint-debate,  or  later,  during  the  years 
of  war,  when  he  pronounced  with  noble  gravity 
the  words  of  his  famous  addresses,  not  one  in  the 
throngs  that  heard  him  could  say  with  truth  that 
he  was  other  than  a  handsome  man. 

It  has  been  the  fashion,  too,  to  say  that  he 
was  slovenly,  and  careless  in  his  dress.  This 
also  is  a  mistake.  His  clothes  could  not  fit 
smoothly  on  his  gaunt  and  bony  frame.  He  was 
no  tailor's  figure  of  a  man;  but  from  the  first 


212  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

he  clothed  himself  as  well  as  his  means  allowed, 
and  in  the  fashion  of  the  time  and  place.  In 
reading  the  grotesque  stories  of  his  boyhood, 
of  the  tall  stripling  whose  trousers  left  exposed 
a  length  of  shin,  it  must  be  remembered  not  only 
how  poor  he  was,  but  that  he  lived  on  the  fron- 
tier, where  other  boys,  less  poor,  were  scarcely 
better  clad.  In  Vandalia,  the  blue  jeans  he  wore 
was  the  dress  of  his  companions  as  well,  and 
later,  from  Springfield  days  on,  clear  through 
his  presidency,  his  costume  was  the  usual  suit 
of  black  broadcloth,  carefully  made,  and  scrupu- 
lously neat.  He  cared  nothing  for  style.  It  did 
not  matter  to  him  whether  the  man  with  whom 
he  talked  wore  a  coat  of  the  latest  cut,  or  owned 
no  coat  at  all.  It  was  the  man  inside  the  coat 
that  interested  him. 

In  the  same  way  he  cared  little  for  the 
pleasures  of  the  table.  He  ate  most  sparingly. 
He  was  thankful  that  food  was  good  and  whole- 
some and  enough  for  daily  needs,  but  he  could 
no  more  enter  into  the  mood  of  the  epicure  for 
whose  palate  it  is  a  matter  of  importance  whether 
he  eats  roast  goose  or  golden  pheasant,  than  he 
could  have  counted  the  grains  of  sand  under 
the  sea. 

In  the  summers,  while  he  was  President,  he 
spent  the  nights  at  a  cottage  at  the  Soldiers' 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  213 

Home,  a  short  distance  north  of  Washington, 
riding  or  driving  out  through  the  gathering  dusk, 
and  returning  to  the  White  House  after  a  frugal 
breakfast  in  the  early  morning.  Ten  o'clock 
was  the  hour  at  which  he  was  supposed  to  begin 
receiving  visitors,  but  it  was  often  necessary  to 
see  them  unpleasantly  early.  Occasionally  they 
forced  their  way  to  his  bedroom  before  he  had 
quite  finished  dressing.  Throngs  of  people  daily 
filled  his  office,  the  ante-rooms,  and  even  the  cor- 
ridors of  the  public  part  of  the  Executive  Man- 
sion. He  saw  them  all,  those  he  had  summoned 
on  important  business,  men  of  high  official  posi- 
tion who  came  to  demand  as  their  right  offices 
and  favors  that  he  had  no  right  to  give;  others 
who  wished  to  offer  tiresome  if  well-meant  ad- 
vice; and  the  hundreds,  both  men  and  women, 
who  pressed  forward  to  ask  all  sorts  of  help. 
His  friends  besought  him  to  save  himself  the 
weariness  of  seeing  the  people  at  these  public 
receptions,  but  he  refused.  "They  do  not  want 
much,  and  they  get  very  little,"  he  answered. 
"Each  one  considers  his  business  of  great  im- 
portance, and  I  must  gratify  them.  I  know  how 
I  would  feel  if  I  were  in  their  place."  And  at 
noon  on  all  days  except  Tuesday  and  Friday, 
when  the  time  was  occupied  by  meetings  of  the 
cabinet,   the  doors  were  thrown  open,   and  all 


214  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

who  wished  might  enter.  That  remark  of  his, 
"I  know  how  I  would  feel  if  I  were  in  their 
place,"  explained  it  all.  His  early  experience 
of  life  had  drilled  him  well  for  these  ordeals.  He 
had  read  deeply  in  the  book  of  human  nature, 
and  could  see  the  hidden  signs  of  falsehood  and 
deceit  and  trickery  from  which  the  faces  of  some 
of  his  visitors  were  not  free;  but  he  knew,  too, 
the  hard,  practical  side  of  life,  the  hunger,  cold, 
storms,  sickness  and  misfortune  that  the  average 
man  must  meet  in  his  struggle  with  the  world. 
More  than  all,  he  knew  and  sympathized  with 
that  hope  deferred  which  makes  the  heart  sick. 
Not  a  few  men  and  women  came,  sad-faced 
and  broken-hearted,  to  plead  for  soldier  sons  or 
husbands  in  prison,  or  under  sentence  of  death 
by  court-martial.  An  inmate  of  the  White  House 
has  recorded  the  eagerness  with  which  the  Presi- 
dent caught  at  any  fact  that  would  justify  him 
in  saving  the  life  of  a  condemned  soldier.  He 
was  only  merciless  when  meanness  or  cruelty 
were  clearly  proved.  Cases  of  cowardice  he  dis- 
liked especially  to  punish  with  death.  "It  would 
frighten  the  poor  devils  too  terribly  to  shoot 
them,"  he  said.  On  the  papers  in  the  case  of 
one  soldier  who  had  deserted  and  then  enlisted 
again,  he  wrote:  "Let  him  fight,  instead  of  shoot- 
ing him." 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  215 

He  used  to  call  these  cases  of  desertion  his 
"leg  cases,"  and  sometimes  when  considering 
them,  would  tell  the  story  of  the  Irish  soldier, 
upbraided  by  his  captain,  who  replied:  "Cap- 
tain, I  have  a  heart  in  me  breast  as  brave  as 
Julius  Caesar,  but  when  I  go  into  battle,  Sor,  these 
cowardly  legs  of  mine  will  run  away  with  me!" 

As  the  war  went  on,  Mr.  Lincoln  objected 
more  and  more  to  approving  sentences  of  death 
by  court-martial,  and  either  pardoned  them 
outright,  or  delayed  the  execution  "until  further 
orders,"  which  orders  were  never  given  by  the 
great-hearted,  merciful  man.  Secretary  Stanton 
and  certain  generals  complained  bitterly  that  if 
the  President  went  on  pardoning  soldiers  he 
would  ruin  the  discipline  of  the  army;  but 
Secretary  Stanton  had  a  warm  heart,  and  it  is 
doubtful  if  he  ever  willingly  enforced  the  justice 
that  he  criticized  the  President  for  tempering 
with  so  much  mercy. 

Yet  Mr.  Lincoln  could  be  sternly  just  when 
necessary.  A  law  declaring  the  slave  trade  to 
be  piracy  had  stood  on  the  statute  books  of  the 
United  States  for  half  a  century.  Lincoln's 
administration  was  the  first  to  convict  a  man 
under  it,  and  Lincoln  himself  decreed  that  the 
well-deserved  sentence  be  carried  out. 

Mr.    Lincoln    sympathized    keenly    with    the 


216  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

hardships  and  trials  of  the  soldier  boys,  and 
found  time,  amid  all  his  labors  and  cares,  to 
visit  the  hospitals  in  and  around  Washington 
where  they  lay  ill.  His  afternoon  drive  was 
usually  to  some  camp  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  city;  and  when  he  visited  one  at  a  greater 
distance,  the  cheers  that  greeted  him  as  he  rode 
along  the  line  with  the  commanding  general 
showed  what  a  warm  place  he  held  in  their 
hearts. 

He  did  not  forget  the  unfortunate  on  these 
visits.  A  story  is  told  of  his  interview  with 
William  Scott,  a  boy  from  a  Vermont  farm, 
who,  after  marching  forty-eight  hours  without 
sleep,  volunteered  to  stand  guard  for  a  sick 
comrade.  Weariness  overcame  him,  and  he  was 
found  asleep  at  his  post,  within  gunshot  of  the 
enemy.  He  was  tried,  and  sentenced  to  be 
shot.  Mr.  Lincoln  heard  of  the  case,  and  went 
himself  to  the  tent  where  young  Scott  was  kept 
under  guard.  He  talked  to  him  kindly,  asking 
about  his  home,  his  schoolmates,  and  particu- 
larly about  his  mother.  The  lad  took  her  picture 
from  his  pocket,  and  showed  it  to  him  without 
speaking.  Mr.  Lincoln  was  much  affected.  As 
he  rose  to  leave  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  prisoner's 
shoulder.  "My  boy,"  he  said,  "you  are  not  going 
to  be  shot  to-morrow.     I  believe  you  when  you 


THE    LAD    TOOK    HER    PICTURE    FROM    H7S    I'OCKET  AND    SHOWED    IT  TO    HIM 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  219 

tell  me  that  you  could  not  keep  awake.  I  am 
going  to  trust  you,  and  send  you  back  to  your 
regiment.  Now,  I  want  to  know  what  you  intend 
to  pay  for  all  this?"  The  lad,  overcome  with 
gratitude,  could  hardly  say  a  word,  but  crowding 
down  his  emotions,  managed  to  answer  that  he 
did  not  know.  He  and  his  people  were  poor, 
they  would  do  what  they  could.  There  was  his 
pay,  and  a  little  in  the  savings  bank.  They  could 
borrow  something  by  a  mortgage  on  the  farm. 
Perhaps  his  comrades  would  help.  If  Mr.  Lin- 
coln would  wait  until  pay  day  possibly  they  might 
get  together  five  or  six  hundred  dollars.  Would 
that  be  enough?  The  kindly  President  shook 
his  head.  "My  bill  is  a  great  deal  more  than 
that,"  he  said.  "It  is  a  very  large  one.  Your 
friends  cannot  pay  it,  nor  your  family,  nor  your 
farm.  There  is  only  one  man  in  the  world  who 
can  pay  it,  and  his  name  is  William  Scott.  If 
from  this  day  he  does  his  duty  so  that  when  he 
comes  to  die  he  can  truly  say  T  have  kept  the 
promise  I  gave  the  President.  I  have  done  my 
duty  as  a  soldier,'  then  the  debt  will  be  paid." 
Young  Scott  went  back  to  his  regiment,  and  the 
debt  was  fully  paid  a  few  months  later,  for  he 
fell  in  battle. 

Mr.  Lincoln's  own  son  became  a  soldier  after 
leaving  college.     The  letter  his  father  wrote  to 


220  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

General  Grant  in  his  behalf  shows  how  careful 
he  was  that  neither  his  official  position  nor  his 
desire  to  give  his  boy  the  experience  he  wanted, 
should  work  the  least  injustice  to  others : 


EXECUTIVE  MANSION, 

Washington,  January  19th,  1865. 
Lieutenant -General  Grant: 

Please  read  and  answer  this  letter  as  though  I  was 
not  President,  but  only  a  friend.  My  son,  now  in  his 
twenty-second  year,  having-  graduated  at  Harvard,  wishes 
to  see  something  of  the  war  before  it  ends.  I  do  not  wish 
to  put  him  in  the  ranks,  nor  yet  to  give  him  a  commis- 
sion, to  which  those  who  have  already  served  long  are  bet- 
ter entitled,  and  better  qualified  to  hold.  Could  he,  with- 
out embarrassment  to  you,  or  detriment  to  the  service,  go 
into  your  military  family  with  some  nominal  rank,*  I  and 
not  the  public  furnishing  the  necessary  means?  If  no,  say  so 
without  the  least  hesitation,  because  I  am  as  anxious  and 
as  deeply  interested  that  you  shall  not  be  encumbered  as 
you  can  be  yourself. 

Yours  truly, 

A.  Lincoln. 

His  interest  did  not  cease  with  the  life  of  a 
young  soldier.  Among  his  most  beautiful  letters 
are  those  he  wrote  to  sorrowing  parents  who 
had  lost  their  sons  in  battle;  and  when  his  per- 
sonal friend,  young  Ellsworth,  one  of  the  first 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  221 

and  most  gallant  to  fall,  was  killed  at  Alexandria, 
the  President  directed  that  his  body  be  brought 
to  the  White  House,  where  his  funeral  was  held 
in  the  great  East  Room. 

Though  a  member  of  no  church,  Mr.  Lincoln 
was  most  sincerely  religious  and  devout.  Not 
only  was  his  daily  life  filled  with  acts  of  for- 
bearance and  charity;  every  great  state  paper 
that  he  wrote  breathes  his  faith  and  reliance  on 
a  just  and  merciful  God.  He  rarely  talked, 
even  with  intimate  friends,  about  matters  of 
belief,  but  it  is  to  be  doubted  whether  any 
among  the  many  people  who  came  to  give  him 
advice  and  sometimes  to  pray  with  him,  had  a 
better  right  to  be  called  a  Christian.  He  al- 
ways received  such  visitors  courteously,  with  a 
reverence  for  their  good  intention,  no  matter 
how  strangely  it  sometimes  manifested  itself. 
A  little  address  that  he  made  to  some  Quakers 
who  came  to  see  him  in  September,  1862,  shows 
both  his  courtesy  to  them  personally,  and  his 
humble  attitude  toward  God. 

"I  am  glad  of  this  interview,  and  glad  to 
know  that  I  have  your  sympathy  and  prayers. 
We  are  indeed  going  through  a  great  trial,  a  fiery 
trial.  In  the  very  responsible  position  in  which 
I  happen  to  be  placed,  being  a  humble  instru- 
ment in  the  hands  of  our  Heavenly  Father  as 


222  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

I  am,  and  as  we  all  are,  to  work  out  His  great 
purposes,  I  have  desired  that  all  my  works  and 
acts  may  be  according  to  His  will,  and  that  it 
might  be  so  I  have  sought  His  aid;  but  if,  after 
endeavoring  to  do  my  best  in  the  light  which 
he  affords  me,  I  find  my  efforts  fail,  I  must  be- 
lieve that  for  some  purpose  unknown  to  me,  He 
wills  it  otherwise.  If  I  had  had  my  way,  this 
war  would  never  have  been  commenced.  If  I  had 
been  allowed  my  way,  this  war  would  have  been 
ended  before  this;  but  we  find  it  still  continues, 
and  we  must  believe  that  He  permits  it  for  some 
wise  purpose  of  His  own,  mysterious  and  un- 
known to  us ;  and  though  with  our  limited  under- 
standings we  may  not  be  able  to  comprehend  it, 
yet  we  cannot  but  believe  that  He  who  made  the 
world  still  governs  it." 

Children  held  a  warm  place  in  the  President's 
affections.  He  was  not  only  a  devoted  father; 
his  heart  went  out  to  all  little  folk.  He  had 
been  kind  to  babies  in  his  boyish  days,  when, 
book  in  hand,  and  the  desire  for  study  upon  him, 
he  would  sit  with  one  foot  on  the  rocker  of  a 
rude  frontier  cradle,  not  too  selfishly  busy  to 
keep  its  small  occupant  lulled  and  content,  while 
its  mother  went  about  her  household  tasks.  After 
he  became  President  many  a  sad-eyed  woman 
carrying  a  child  in  her  arms  went  to  see  him, 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  223 

and  the  baby  always  had  its  share  in  gaining 
her  a  speedy  hearing,  and  if  possible  a  favorable 
answer  to  her  petition. 

When  children  came  to  him  at  the  White 
House  of  their  own  accord,  as  they  sometimes 
did,  the  favors  they  asked  were  not  refused  be- 
cause of  their  youth.  One  day  a  small  boy,  watch- 
ing his  chance,  slipped  into  the  Executive  Office 
between  a  governor  and  a  senator,  when  the  door 
was  opened  to  admit  them.  They  were  as  much 
astonished  at  seeing  him  there  as  the  President 
was,  and  could  not  explain  his  presence;  but 
he  spoke  for  himself.  He  had  come,  he  said,  from 
a  little  country  town,  hoping  to  get  a  place  as 
page  in  the  House  of  Representatives.  The  Pres- 
ident began  to  tell  him  that  he  must  go  to 
Captain  Goodnow,  the  doorkeeper  of  the  House, 
for  he  himself  had  nothing  to  do  with  such  ap- 
pointments. Even  this  did  not  discourage  the 
little  fellow.  Very  earnestly  he  pulled  his  papers 
of  recommendation  out  of  his  pocket,  and  Mr. 
Lincoln,  unable  to  resist  his  wistful  face,  read 
them,  and  sent  him  away  happy  with  a  hurried 
line  written  on  the  back  of  them,  saying:  "If 
Captain  Goodnow  can  give  this  good  little  boy 
a  place,  he  will  oblige  A.  Lincoln." 

It  was  a  child  who  persuaded  Mr.  Lincoln  to 
wear  a  beard.    Up  to  the  time  he  was  nominated 


224  THE  BOYS"  LIFE  OF 

for  President  he  had  always  been  smooth-shaven. 
A  little  girl  living  in  Chautauqua  County,  New- 
York,  who  greatly  admired  him,  made  up  her 
mind  that  he  would  look  better  if  he  wore 
whiskers,  and  with  youthful  directness  wrote  and 
told  him  so.     He  answered  her  by  return  mail: 

Springfield,  III.,  Oct.  19,  i860. 

Miss  Grace  Bedell, 

My  dear  little  Miss:  Your  very  agreeable  letter  of 
the  fifteenth  is  received.  I  regret  the  necessity  of  saying 
I  have  no  daughter.  I  have  three  sons,  one  seventeen, 
one  nine,  and  one  seven  years  of  age.  They,  with  their 
mother,  constitute  my  whole  family.  As  to  the  whisk- 
ers, never  having  worn  any,  do  you  not  think  people 
would  call  it  a  piece  of  silly  affectation  if  I  were  to  begin 
now? 

Your  very  sincere  well-wisher, 

A.  Lincoln. 

Evidently  on  second  thoughts  he  decided  to 
follow  her  advice.  On  his  way  to  Washington 
his  train  stopped  at  the  town  where  she  lived. 
He  asked  if  she  were  in  the  crowd  gathered  at 
the  station  to  meet  him.  Of  course  she  was, 
and  willing  hands  forced  a  way  for  her  through 
the  mass  of  people.  When  she  reached  the  car 
Mr.  Lincoln  stepped  from  the  train,  kissed  her, 
and  showed  her  that  he  had  taken  her  advice. 


LINCOLN   AND  HIS    SON    "  TAD  " 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  227 

The  Secretary  who  wrote  about  the  President's 
desire  to  save  the  lives  of  condemned  soldiers 
tells  us  that  "during  the  first  year  of  the  admin- 
istration the  house  was  made  lively  by  the  games 
and  pranks  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  two  younger  chil- 
dren, William  and  Thomas.     Robert  the  eldest 
was  away  at  Harvard,  only  coming  home  for 
short  vacations.    The  two  little  boys,  aged  eight 
and  ten,   with  their  western  independence  and 
enterprise,  kept  the  house  in  an  uproar.     They 
drove  their  tutor  wild  with  their  good-natured 
disobedience.     They  organized  a  minstrel  show 
in  the  attic;  they  made    acquaintance  with  the 
office-seekers    and    became    the    hot    champions 
of   the   distressed.    William   was,    with   all   his 
boyish  frolic,  a  child  of  great  promise,  capable 
of  close  application  and  study.    He  had  a  fancy 
for  drawing  up  railway  time-tables,  and  would 
conduct  an  imaginary  train  from  Chicago  to  New 
York  with  perfect  precision.     He  wrote  childish 
verses,  which  sometimes  attained  the  unmerited 
honors  of  print.     But  this  bright,   gentle  and 
studious  child  sickened  and  died  in  February, 
1862.    His  father  was  profoundly  moved  by  his 
death,  though  he  gave  no  outward  sign  of  his 
trouble,  but  kept  about  his  work,  the  same  as 
ever.    His  bereaved  heart  seemed  afterwards  to 
pour  out  its  fulness  on  his  youngest  child.    'Tad' 


228  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

was  a  merry,  warm-blooded,  kindly  little  boy, 
perfectly  lawless,  and  full  of  odd  fancies  and 
inventions,  the  'chartered  libertine'  of  the  Exec- 
utive Mansion."  He  ran  constantly  in  and  out 
of  his  father's  office,  interrupting  his  gravest 
labors.  Mr.  Lincoln  was  never  too  busy  to  hear 
him,  or  to  answer  his  bright,  rapid,  imperfect 
speech,  for  he  was  not  able  to  speak  plainly  until 
he  was  nearly  grown.  "He  would  perch  upon 
his  father's  knee,  and  sometimes  even  on  his 
shoulder,  while  the  most  weighty  conferences 
were  going  on.  Sometimes,  escaping  from  the 
domestic  authorities,  he  would  take  refuge  in 
that  sanctuary  for  the  whole  evening,  dropping 
to  sleep  at  last  on  the  floor,  when  the  President 
would  pick  him  up,  and  carry  him  tenderly  to 
bed." 

The  letters  and  even  the  telegrams  Mr.  Lin- 
coln sent  his  wife  had  always  a  message  for  or 
about  Tad.  One  of  them  shows  that  his  pets, 
like  their  young  master,  were  allowed  great  lib- 
erty. It  was  written  when  the  family  was  living 
at  the  Soldiers'  Home,  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  and 
Tad  had  gone  away  for  a  visit.  "Tell  dear  Tad," 
he  wrote,  "that  poor  Nanny  Goat  is  lost,  and 
Mrs.  Cuthbert  and  I  are  in  distress  about  it.  The 
day  you  left,  Nanny  was  found  resting  herself 
and  chewing  her  little  cud  on  the  middle  of  Tad's 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  229 

bed;  but  now  she  's  gone!  The  gardener  kept 
complaining  that  she  destroyed  the  flowers,  till 
it  was  concluded  to  bring  her  down  to  the  White 
House.  This  was  done,  and  the  second  day  she 
had  disappeared  and  has  not  been  heard  of  since. 
This  is  the  last  we  know  of  poor  Nanny." 

Tad  was  evidently  consoled  by,  not  one,  but 
a  whole  family  of  new  goats,  for  about  a  year 
later  Mr.  Lincoln  ended  a  business  telegram  to 
his  wife  in  New  York  with  the  words:  "Tell 
Tad  the  goats  and  Father  are  very  well."  Then, 
as  the  weight  of  care  rolled  back  upon  this  great- 
hearted, patient  man,  he  added,  with  humorous 
weariness,  "especially  the  goats." 

Mr.  Lincoln  was  so  forgetful  of  self  as  to  be 
absolutely  without  personal  fear.  He  not  only 
paid  no  attention  to  the  threats  which  were 
constantly  made  against  his  life,  but  when,  on 
July  11,  1864,  the  Confederate  General  Early 
appeared  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  before  the 
city  with  a  force  of  17,000  men,  and  Washington 
was  for  two  days  actually  in  danger  of  assault 
and  capture,  his  unconcern  gave  his  friends  great 
uneasiness.  On  the  tenth  he  rode  out,  as  was 
his  custom,  to  spend  the  night  at  the  Soldiers' 
Home,  but  Secretary  Stanton,  learning  that  Early 
was  advancing,  sent  after  him,  to  compel  his 
return.    Twice  afterward,  intent  upon  watching 


230  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

the  fighting  which  took  place  near  Fort  Stevens, 
north  of  the  city,  he  exposed  his  tall  form  to  the 
gaze  and  bullets  of  the  enemy,  utterly  heedless 
of  his  own  peril;  and  it  was  not  until  an  officer 
had  fallen  mortally  wounded  within  a  few  feet 
of  him,  that  he  could  be  persuaded  to  seek  a 
place  of  greater  safety. 


XI 

THE  TURNING   POINT   OF   THE   WAR 

IN  the  summer  of  1863  the  Confederate  armies 
reached  their  greatest  strength.  It  was  then 
that,  flushed  with  military  ardor,  and  made  bold 
by  what  seemed  to  the  southern  leaders  an  un- 
broken series  of  victories  on  the  Virginia  battle- 
fields, General  Lee  again  crossed  the  Potomac 
River,  and  led  his  army  into  the  North.  He 
went  as  far  as  Gettysburg  in  Pennsylvania;  but 
there,  on  the  third  of  July,  1863,  suffered  a  dis- 
astrous defeat,  which  shattered  forever  the  Con- 
federate dream  of  taking  Philadelphia  and  dictat- 
ing peace  from  Independence  Hall.  This  battle 
of  Gettysburg  should  have  ended  the  war,  for 
General  Lee,  on  retreating  southward,  found 
the  Potomac  River  so  swollen  by  heavy  rains 
that  he  was  obliged  to  wait  several  days  for  the 
floods  to  go  down.  In  that  time  it  would  have 
been  quite  possible  for  General  Meade,  the  Union 
commander,  to  follow  him  and  utterly  destroy  his 
army.     He  proved  too  slow,  however,  and  Lee 


232  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

and  his  beaten  Confederate  soldiers  escaped. 
President  Lincoln  was  inexpressibly  grieved  at 
this,  and  in  the  first  bitterness  of  his  disappoint- 
ment sat  down  and  wrote  General  Meade  a  letter. 
Lee  "was  within  your  easy  grasp,"  he  told  him, 
"and  to  have  closed  upon  him  would,  in  connec- 
tion with  our  other  late  successes,  have  ended 
the  war.  As  it  is,  the  war  will  be  prolonged 
indefinitely.  .  .  .  Your  golden  opportunity  is 
gone  and  I  am  distressed  immeasurably  because 
of  it."  But  Meade  never  received  this  letter. 
Deeply  as  the  President  felt  Meade's  fault,  his 
spirit  of  forgiveness  was  so  quick,  and  his  thank- 
fulness for  the  measure  of  success  that  had  been 
gained,  so  great,  that  he  put  it  in  his  desk,  and  it 
was  never  signed  or  sent. 

The  battle  of  Gettysburg  was  indeed  a  notable 
victory,  and  coupled  with  the  fall  of  Vicksburg, 
which  surrendered  to  General  Grant  on  that 
same  third  of  July,  proved  the  real  turning-point 
of  the  war.  It  seems  singularly  appropriate,  then, 
that  Gettysburg  should  have  been  the  place  where 
President  Lincoln  made  his  most  beautiful  and 
famous  address.  After  the  battle  the  dead  and 
wounded  of  both  the  Union  and  Confederate 
armies  had  received  tender  attention  there.  Later 
it  was  decided  to  set  aside  a  portion  of  the  battle- 
field for  a  great  national  military  cemetery  in 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  233 

which  the  dead  found  orderly  burial.  It  was  dedi- 
cated to  its  sacred  use  on  November  19,  1863.  At 
the  end  of  the  stately  ceremonies  President  Lin- 
coln rose  and  said: 

"Fourscore  and  seven  years  ago  our  fathers 
brought  forth  on  this  continent  a  new  nation, 
conceived  in  liberty,  and  dedicated  to  the  propo- 
sition that  all  men  are  created  equal. 

"Now  we  are  engaged  in  a  great  civil  war, 
testing  whether  that  nation,  or  any  nation,  so 
conceived  and  so  dedicated,  can  long  endure. 
We  are  met  on  a  great  battlefield  of  that  war. 
We  have  come  to  dedicate  a  portion  of  that  field 
as  a  final  resting  place  for  those  who  here  gave 
their  lives  that  that  nation  might  live.  It  is  alto- 
gether fitting  and  proper  that  we  should  do  this. 

"But  in  a  larger  sense,  we  cannot  dedicate — 
we  cannot  consecrate — we  cannot  hallow — this 
ground.  The  brave  men,  living  and  dead,  who 
struggled  here  have  consecrated  it  far  above  our 
poor  power  to  add  or  detract.  The  world  will 
little  note  nor  long  remember  what  we  say  here, 
but  it  can  never  forget  what  they  did  here.  It  is 
for  us  the  living,  rather,  to  be  dedicated  here  to 
the  unfinished  work  which  they  who  fought  here 
have  thus  far  so  nobly  advanced.  It  is  rather 
for  us  to  be  here  dedicated  to  the  great  task 
remaining  before  us — that  from  these  honored 


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236  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

dead  we  take  increased  devotion  to  that  cause  for 
which  they  gave  the  last  full  measure  of  devo- 
tion ;  that  we  here  highly  resolve  that  these  dead 
shall  not  have  died  in  vain;  that  this  nation, 
under  God,  shall  have  a  new  birth  of  freedom, 
and  that  government  of  the  people,  by  the  people, 
for  the  people,  shall  not  perish  from  the  earth." 

With  these  words,  so  brief,  so  simple,  so  full 
of  reverent  feeling,  he  set  aside  the  place  of 
strife  to  be  the  resting  place  of  heroes,  and  then 
went  back  to  his  own  great  task — for  which  he, 
too,  was  to  give  "the  last  full  measure  of  devo- 
tion." 

Up  to  within  a  very  short  time  little  had  been 
heard  about  Ulysses  S.  Grant,  the  man  destined 
to  become  the  most  successful  general  of  the 
war.  Like  General  McClellan,  he  was  a  graduate 
of  West  Point;  and  also  like  McClellan,  he  had 
resigned  from  the  army  after  serving  gallantly 
in  the  Mexican  war.  There  the  resemblance 
ceased,  for  he  had  not  an  atom  of  McClellan's 
vanity,  and  his  persistent  will  to  do  the  best  he 
could  with  the  means  the  government  could  give 
him  was  far  removed  from  the  younger  general's 
faultfinding  and  complaint.  He  was  about  four 
years  older  than  McClellan,  having  been  born 
on  April  27,  1822.  On  offering  his  services  to 
the  War  Department  in  1861  he  had  modestly 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  237 

written:  "I  feel  myself  competent  to  command 
a  regiment  if  the  President  in  his  judgment 
should  see  fit  to  intrust  one  to  me."  For  some 
reason  this  letter  remained  unanswered,  although 
the  Department,  then  and  later,  had  need  of 
trained  and  experienced  officers.  Afterward  the 
Governor  of  Illinois  made  him  a  colonel  of  one 
of  the  three  years'  volunteer  regiments ;  and  from 
that  time  on  he  rose  in  rank,  not  as  McClellan 
had  done,  by  leaps  and  bounds,  but  slowly,  earn- 
ing every  promotion.  All  of  his  service  had  been 
in  the  West,  and  he  first  came  into  general  notice 
by  his  persistent  and  repeated  efforts  to  capture 
Vicksburg,  on  whose  fall  the  opening  of  the 
Mississippi  River  depended.  Five  different  plans 
he  tried  before  he  finally  succeeded,  the  last  one 
appearing  utterly  foolhardy,  and  seeming  to  go 
against  every  known  rule  of  military  science.  In 
spite  of  this  it  was  successful,  the  Union  army 
and  navy  thereby  gaining  control  of  the  Missis- 
sippi River  and  cutting  off  forever  from  the 
Confederacy  a  great  extent  of  rich  country,  from 
which,  up  to  that  time,  it  had  been  drawing  men 
and  supplies. 

The  North  was  greatly  cheered  by  these 
victories,  and  all  eyes  were  turned  upon  the  suc- 
cessful commander.  No  one  was  more  thankful 
than  Mr.  Lincoln.    He  gave  Grant  quick  promo- 


238  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

tion,  and  crowned  the  official  act  with  a  most 
generous  letter.  "I  do  not  remember  that  you 
and  I  ever  met  personally,"  he  wrote.  "I  write 
this  now  as  a  grateful  acknowledgement  for  the 
almost  inestimable  service  you  have  done  the 
country.  I  wish  to  say  a  word  further."  Then, 
summing  up  the  plans  that  the  General  had  tried, 
especially  the  last  one,  he  added:  "I  feared  it 
was  a  mistake.  I  now  wish  to  make  the  personal 
acknowledgement  that  you  were  right  and  I  was 
wrong." 

Other  important  battles  won  by  Grant  that 
same  fall  added  to  his  growing  fame,  and  by  the 
beginning  of  1864  he  was  singled  out  as  the 
greatest  Union  commander.  As  a  suitable  re- 
ward for  his  victories  it  was  determined  to  make 
him  Lieutenant-General.  This  army  rank  had, 
before  the  Civil  War,  been  bestowed  on  only  two 
American  soldiers— on  General  Washington,  and 
on  Scott,  for  his  conquest  of  Mexico.  In  1864 
Congress  passed  and  the  President  signed  an 
act  to  revive  the  grade,  and  Grant  was  called 
to  Washington  to  receive  his  commission.  He 
and  Mr.  Lincoln  met  for  the  first  time  at  a  large 
public  reception  held  at  the  Executive  Mansion 
on  the  evening  of  March  8.  A  movement  and 
rumor  in  the  crowd  heralded  his  approach,  and 
when  at  last  the  short,  stocky,  determined  soldier 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  239 

and  the  tall,  care-worn,  deep-eyed  President  stood 
face  to  face  the  crowd,  moved  by  a  sudden  im- 
pulse of  delicacy,  drew  back,  and  left  them  almost 
alone  to  exchange  a  few  words.  Later,  when 
Grant  appeared  in  the  great  East  Room,  the 
enthusiasm  called  forth  by  his  presence  could  no 
longer  be  restrained,  and  cheer  after  cheer  went 
up,  while  his  admirers  pressed  about  him  so 
closely  that,  hot  and  blushing  with  embarrass- 
ment, he  was  forced  at  last  to  mount  a  sofa, 
and  from  there  shake  hands  with  the  eager  people 
who  thronged  up  to  him  from  all  sides. 

The  next  day  at  one  o'clock  the  President,  in 
the  presence  of  the  cabinet  and  a  few  other  offi- 
cials, made  a  little  speech,  and  gave  him  his 
commission.  Grant  replied  with  a  few  words, 
as  modest  as  they  were  brief,  and  in  conversation 
afterward  asked  what  special  duty  was  required 
of  him.  The  President  answered  that  the  people 
wanted  him  to  take  Richmond,  and  asked  if  he 
could  do  it.  Grant  said  that  he  could  if  he  had 
the  soldiers,  and  the  President  promised  that 
these  would  be  furnished  him.  Grant  did  not 
stay  in  Washington  to  enjoy  the  new  honors  of 
his  high  rank,  but  at  once  set  about  preparations 
for  his  task.  It  proved  a  hard  one.  More  than 
a  year  passed  before  it  was  ended,  and  all  the 
losses  in  battle  of  the  three  years  that  had  gone 


240  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

before  seemed  small  in  comparison  with  the  ter- 
rible numbers  of  killed  and  wounded  that  fell 
during  these  last  months  of  the  war.  At  first 
Grant  had  a  fear  that  the  President  might  wish 
to  control  his  plans,  but  this  was  soon  quieted; 
and  his  last  lingering  doubt  on  the  subject  van- 
ished when,  as  he  was  about  to  start  on  his  final 
campaign,  Mr.  Lincoln  sent  him  a  letter  stating 
his  satisfaction  with  all  he  had  done,  and  assur- 
ing him  that  in  the  coming  campaign  he  neither 
knew,  nor  desired  to  know,  the  details  of  his 
plans.  In  his  reply  Grant  confessed  the  ground- 
lessness of  his  fears,  and  added,  "Should  my 
success  be  less  than  I  desire  and  expect,  the  least 
I  can  say  is,  the  fault  is  not  with  you." 

He  made  no  complicated  plan  for  the  problem 
before  him,  but  proposed  to  solve  it  by  plain, 
hard,  persistent  fighting.  "Lee's  army  will  be 
your  objective  point,"  he  instructed  General 
Meade.  "Where  Lee  goes  there  you  will  go 
also."  Nearly  three  years  earlier  the  opposing 
armies  had  fought  their  first  battle  of  Bull  Run 
only  a  short  distance  north  of  where  they  now 
confronted  each  other.  Campaign  and  battle  be- 
tween them  had  swayed  to  the  north  and  tke 
south,  but  neither  could  claim  any  great  gain 
of  ground  or  of  advantage.  The  final  struggle 
was  before  them.  Grant  had  two  to  one  in  num- 
bers ;  Lee  the  advantage  in  position,  for  he  knew 


^vii-^<-^K),    ^n-e^-O  /o-e-'    evT)-t^>Cc_»o      4/  /i^i^-<r>^r   /Z-~^-e-3-o    A^ik^C, 
4^tJ      />-Vvt>»v^_       JLf  /Z^fcj^o    Ai      psx~yC??Z<^^f     t^rn^j6cC^,     Aj^^-c^C./^    A^EZ^ 


242  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

by  heart  every  road,  hill  and  forest  in  Virginia, 
had  for  his  friendly  scout  every  white  inhabitant, 
and  could  retire  into  prepared  fortifications.  Per- 
haps the  greatest  element  of  his  strength  lay  in 
the  conscious  pride  of  his  army  that  for  three 
years  it  had  steadily  barred  the  way  to  Rich- 
mond. To  offset  this  there  now  menaced  it  what 
had  always  been  absent  before — the  grim,  un- 
flinching will  of  the  new  Union  commander,  who 
had  rightly  won  for  himself  the  name  of  "Uncon- 
ditional Surrender"  Grant. 

On  the  night  of  May  4,  1864,  his  army  entered 
upon  the  campaign  which,  after  many  months, 
was  to  end  the  war.  It  divided  itself  into  two 
parts.  For  the  first  six  weeks  there  was  almost 
constant  swift  marching  and  hard  fighting,  a 
nearly  equally  matched  contest  of  strategy  and 
battle  between  the  two  armies,  the  difference  being 
that  Grant  was  always  advancing,  and  Lee  always 
retiring.  Grant  had  hoped  to  defeat  Lee  outside 
of  his  fortifications,  and  early  in  the  campaign  had 
expressed  his  resolution  "to  fight  it  out  on  this 
line  if  it  takes  all  summer";  but  the  losses  were 
so  appalling,  60,000  of  his  best  troops  melting 
away  in  killed  and  wounded  during  the  six  weeks, 
that  this  was  seen  to  be  impossible.  Lee's  army 
was  therefore  driven  into  its  fortifications  around 
the  Confederate  capital   and  then  came  the  siege 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  243 

of  Richmond,  lasting  more  than  nine  months, 
but  pushed  forward  all  that  time  with  relentless 
energy,  in  spite  of  Grant's  heavy  losses. 

In  the  West,  meanwhile,  General  William  T, 
Sherman,  Grant's  closest  friend  and  brother 
officer,  pursued  a  task  of  almost  equal  importance, 
taking  Atlanta,  Georgia,  which  the  Confederates 
had  turned  into  a  city  of  foundries  and  work- 
shops for  the  manufacture  and  repair  of  guns; 
then,  starting  from  Atlanta,  marching  with  his 
best  troops  three  hundred  miles  to  the  sea,  laying 
the  country  waste  as  they  went;  after  which, 
turning  northward,  he  led  them  through  South 
and  North  Carolina  to  bring  his  army  in  touch 
with  Grant. 

Against  this  background  of  fighting  the  life 
of  the  country  went  on.  The  end  of  the  war  was 
approaching,  surely,  but  so  slowly  that  the  people, 
hoping  for  it,  and  watching  day  by  day,  could 
scarcely  see  it.  They  schooled  themselves  to  a 
dogged  endurance,  but  there  was  no  more  en- 
thusiasm. Many  lost  courage.  Volunteering 
almost  ceased,  and  the  government  was  obliged 
to  begin  drafting  men  to  make  up  the  numbers 
of  soldiers  needed  by  Grant  in  his  campaign 
against  Richmond. 

The  President  had  many  things  to  dishearten 
him  at  this  time,  many  troublesome  questions  to 


244  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

settle.  For  instance,  there  were  new  loyal  State 
governments  to  provide  in  those  parts  of  the 
South  which  had  again  come  under  control  of 
the  Union  armies — no  easy  matter,  where  every 
man,  woman  and  child  harbored  angry  feelings 
against  the  North,  and  no  matter  how  just  and 
forbearing  he  might  be,  his  plans  were  sure  to 
be  thwarted  and  bitterly  opposed  at  every  step. 
There  were  serious  questions,  too,  to  be  de- 
cided about  negro  soldiers,  for  the  South  had 
raised  a  mighty  outcry  against  the  Emancipation 
Proclamation,  especially  against  the  use  of  the 
freed  slaves  as  soldiers,  vowing  that  white  officers 
of  negro  troops  would  be  shown  small  mercy,  if 
ever  they  were  taken  prisoners.  No  act  of  such 
vengeance  occurred,  but  in  1864  a  fort  manned 
by  colored  soldiers  was  captured  by  the  Confed- 
erates, and  almost  the  entire  garrison  was  put 
to  death.  Must  the  order  that  the  War  Depart- 
ment had  issued  some  time  earlier,  to  offset  the 
Confederate  threats,  now  be  put  in  force?  The 
order  said  that  for  every  negro  prisoner  killed 
by  the  Confederates  a  Confederate  prisoner  in 
the  hands  of  the  Union  armies  would  be  taken 
out  and  shot.  It  fell  upon  Mr.  Lincoln  to  decide. 
The  idea  seemed  unbearable  to  him,  yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  could  he  afford  to  let  the  massacre 
go  unavenged  and  thus  encourage  the  South  in 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  245 

the  belief  that  it  could  commit  such  barbarous 
acts  and  escape  unharmed?  Two  reasons  finally 
decided  him  against  putting  the  order  in  force. 
One  was  that  General  Grant  was  about  to  start 
on  his  campaign  against  Richmond,  and  that  it 
would  be  most  unwise  to  begin  this  by  the  tragic 
spectacle  of  a  military  punishment,  however 
merited.  The  other  was  his  tender-hearted 
humanity.  He  could  not,  he  said,  take  men  out 
and  kill  them  in  cold  blood  for  crimes  committed 
by  other  men.  If  he  could  get  hold  of  the  persons 
who  were  guilty  of  killing  the  colored  prisoners 
in  cold  blood,  the  case  would  be  different;  but 
he  could  not  kill  the  innocent  for  the  guilty. 
Fortunately  the  offense  was  not  repeated,  and  no 
one  had  cause  to  criticize  his  clemency. 

Numbers  of  good  and  influential  men,  dis- 
mayed at  the  amount  of  blood  and  treasure  that 
the  war  had  already  cost,  and  disheartened  by 
the  calls  for  still  more  soldiers  that  Grant's  cam- 
paign made  necessary,  began  to  clamor  for 
peace — were  ready  to  grant  almost  anything  that 
the  Confederates  chose  to  ask.  Rebel  agents 
were  in  Canada  professing  to  be  able  to  conclude 
a  peace.  Mr.  Lincoln,  wishing  to  convince  these 
northern  "Peace  men"  of  the  groundlessness  of 
their  claim,  and  of  the  injustice  of  their  charges 
that  the  government  was  continuing  the  war 


246  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

unnecessarily,  sent  Horace  Greeley,  the  foremost 
among  them,  to  Canada,  to  talk  with  the  self- 
styled  ambassadors  of  Jefferson  Davis.  Nothing 
came  of  it,  of  course,  except  abuse  of  Mr.  Lincoln 
for  sending  such  a  messenger,  and  a  lively  quarrel 
between  Greeley  and  the  rebel  agents  as  to  who 
was  responsible  for  the  misunderstandings  that 
arose. 

The  summer  and  autumn  of  1864  were  likewise 
filled  with  the  bitterness  and  high  excitement  of 
a  presidential  campaign;  for,  according  to  law, 
Mr.  Lincoln's  successor  had  to  be  elected  on  the 
"Tuesday  after  the  first  Monday"  of  November 
in  that  year.  The  great  mass  of  Republicans 
wished  Mr.  Lincoln  to  be  reelected.  The  Demo- 
crats had  long  ago  fixed  upon  General  McClellan, 
with  his  grievances  against  the  President,  as 
their  future  candidate.  It  is  not  unusual  for 
Presidents  to  discover  would-be  rivals  in  their 
own  cabinets.  Considering  the  strong  men  who 
formed  Mr.  Lincoln's  cabinet,  and  the  fact  that 
four  years  earlier  more  than  one  of  them  had 
active  hopes  of  being  chosen  in  his  stead,  it  is  re- 
markable that  there  was  so  little  of  this. 

The  one  who  developed  the  most  serious  desire 
to  succeed  him  was  Salmon  P.  Chase,  his  Secre- 
tary of  the  Treasury.  Devoted  with  all  his 
powers  to  the  cause  of  the  Union,  Mr.  Chase 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  247 

was  yet  strangely  at  fault  in  his  judgment  of  men. 
He  regarded  himself  as  the  friend  of  Mr.  Lincoln, 
but  nevertheless  held  so  poor  an  opinion  of  the 
President's  mind  and  character,  compared  with 
his  own,  that  he  could  not  believe  people  blind 
enough  to  prefer  the  President  to  himself.  He 
imagined  that  he  did  not  want  the  office,  and  was 
anxious  only  for  the  public  good ;  yet  he  listened 
eagerly  to  the  critics  of  the  President  who  flat- 
tered his  hopes,  and  found  time  in  spite  of  his 
great  labors  to  write  letters  to  all  parts  of  the 
country,  which,  although  protesting  that  he  did 
not  want  the  honor,  showed  his  entire  willingness 
to  accept  it.  Mr.  Lincoln  was  well  aware  of  this. 
Indeed,  it  was  impossible  not  to  know  about  it, 
though  he  refused  to  hear  the  matter  discussed 
or  to  read  any  letters  concerning  it.  He  had  his 
own  opinion  of  the  taste  displayed  by  Mr.  Chase, 
but  chose  to  take  no  notice  of  his  actions.  "I 
have  determined,"  he  said,  "to  shut  my  eyes,  so 
far  as  possible,  to  everything  of  the  sort.  Mr, 
Chase  makes  a  good  Secretary,  and  I  shall  keep 
him  where  he  is.  If  he  becomes  President,  all 
right.  I  hope  we  may  never  have  a  worse  man," 
and  he  not  only  kept  him  where  he  was,  but  went 
on  appointing  Chase's  friends  to  office. 

There  was  also  some  talk  of  making  General 
Grant  the  Republican  candidate  for  President, 


248  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

and  an  attempt  was  even  made  to  trap  Mr.  Lin- 
coln into  taking  part  in  a  meeting  where  this 
was  to  be  done.  Mr.  Lincoln  refused  to  attend, 
and  instead  wrote  a  letter  of  such  hearty  and 
generous  approval  of  Grant  and  his  army  that 
the  meeting  naturally  fell  into  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Lincoln's  friends.  General  Grant,  never  at  that 
time  or  any  other,  gave  the  least  encouragement 
to  the  efforts  which  were  made  to  array  him 
against  the  President.  Mr.  Lincoln,  on  his  part, 
received  all  warnings  to  beware  of  Grant  in  the 
most  serene  manner,  saying  tranquilly,  "If  he 
takes  Richmond,  let  him  have  it."  It  was  not 
so  with  General  Fremont.  At  a  poorly  attended 
meeting  held  in  Cleveland  he  was  actually  nomi- 
nated by  a  handful  of  people  calling  themselves 
the  "Radical  Democracy,"  and  taking  the  matter 
seriously,  accepted,  although,  three  months  later, 
having  found  no  response  from  the  public,  he 
witi^drew  from  the  contest. 

After  all,  these  various  attempts  to  discredit 
the  name  of  Abraham  Lincoln  caused  hardly  a 
ripple  on  the  great  current  of  public  opinion,  and 
death  alone  could  have  prevented  his  choice  by 
the  Republican  national  convention.  He  took  no 
measures  to  help  on  his  own  candidacy.  With 
strangers  he  would  not  talk  about  the  probability 
of  his  reelection;  but  with  friends  he  made  no 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  249 

secret  of  his  readiness  to  continue  the  work  he 
was  engaged  in  if  such  should  be  the  general 
wish.  "A  second  term  would  be  a  great  honor 
and  a  great  labor;  which  together,  perhaps,  1 
would  not  decline,"  he  wrote  to  one  of  them.  He 
discouraged  officeholders,  either  civil  or  military, 
who  showed  any  special  zeal  in  his  behalf.  To 
General  Schurz,  who  wrote  asking  permission  to 
take  an  active  part  in  the  campaign  for  his  re- 
election, he  answered:  "I  perceive  no  objection 
to  your  making  a  political  speech  when  you  are 
where  one  is  to  be  made ;  but  quite  surely,  speak- 
ing in  the  North  and  fighting  in  the  South  at 
the  same  time  are  not  possible,  nor  could  I  be 
justified  to  detail  any  officer  to  the  political  cam- 
paign .  .  .  and  then  return  him  to  the  army." 

He  himself  made  no  long  speeches  during  the 
summer,  and  in  his  short  addresses,  at  Sanitary 
Fairs,  in  answer  to  visiting  delegations,  and  on 
similar  occasions  where  custom  and  courtesy 
obliged  him  to  say  a  few  words,  he  kept  his  quiet 
ease  and  self-command,  speaking  heartily  and  to 
the  point,  yet  avoiding  all  the  pitfalls  that  beset 
the  candidate  who  talks. 

When  the  Republican  national  convention  came 
together  in  Baltimore  on  June  7,  1864,  it  nad 
very  little  to  do,  for  its  delegates  were  bound  by 
rigid  instructions  to  vote  for  Abraham  Lincoln. 


25o  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

He  was  chosen  on  the  first  ballot,  every  State 
voting  for  him  except  Missouri,  whose  repre- 
sentatives had  been  instructed  to  vote  for  Grant. 
Missouri  at  once  changed  its  vote,  and  the  sec- 
retary of  the  convention  read  the  grand  total  of 
506  for  Lincoln,  his  announcement  being  greeted 
by  a  storm  of  cheers  that  lasted  several  minutes. 
It  was  not  so  easy  to  choose  a  Vice-President. 
Mr.  Lincoln  had  been  besieged  by  many  people 
to  make  known  his  wishes  in  the  matter,  but  had 
persistently  refused.  He  rightly  felt  that  it  would 
be  presumptuous  in  him  to  dictate  who  should 
be  his  companion  on  the  ticket,  and,  in  case  of  his 
death,  his  successor  in  office.  This  was  for  the 
delegates  to  the  convention  to  decide,  for  they 
represented  the  voters  of  the  country.  He  had 
no  more  right  to  dictate  who  should  be  selected 
than  the  Emperor  of  China  would  have  had.  It 
is  probable  that  Vice-President  Hamlin  would 
have  been  renominated,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
general  feeling  both  in  and  out  of  the  convention 
that,  under  all  the  circumstances,  it  would  be 
wiser  to  select  some  man  who  had  been  a  Demo- 
crat, and  had  yet  upheld  the  war.  The  choice 
fell  upon  Andrew  Johnson  of  Tennessee,  who 
was  not  only  a  Democrat,  but  had  been  appointed 
by  Mr.  Lincoln  military  governor  of  Tennessee 
in  1862. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  251 

The  Democrats  at  first  meant  to  have  the 
national  convention  of  their  party  meet  on  the 
fourth  of  July ;  but  after  Fremont  had  been  nomi- 
nated at  Cleveland  and  Lincoln  at  Baltimore, 
they  postponed  it  to  a  later  date,  hoping  that 
something  in  the  chapter  of  accidents  might  hap- 
pen to  their  advantage.  At  first  it  appeared  as 
if  this  might  be  the  case.  i£he  outlook  for  the 
Republicans  was  far  from  satisfactory.  The 
terrible  fighting  and  great  losses  of  Grant's  army 
in  Virginia  had  profoundly  shocked  and  de- 
pressed the  country.  The  campaign  of  General 
Sherman,  who  was  then  in  Georgia,  showed  as 
yet  no  promise  of  the  brilliant  results  it  afterward 
attained.  General  Early's  sudden  raid  into 
Maryland,  when  he  appeared  so  unexpectedly  be- 
fore Washington  and  threatened  the  city,  had 
been  the  cause  of  much  exasperation;  and  Mr. 
Chase,  made  bitter  by  his  failure  to  receive  the 
coveted  nomination  for  President,  had  resigned 
from  the  cabinet.  This  seemed,  to  certain  lead- 
ing Republicans,  to  point  to  a  breaking  up  of 
the  government.  The  "Peace"  men  were  clamor- 
ing loudly  for  an  end  of  the  war ;  and  the  Demo- 
crats, not  having  yet  formally  chosen  a  candidate, 
were  free  to  devote  all  their  leisure  to  attacks 
upon  the  administration. 

Mr.    Lincoln    realized    fully    the    tremendous 


252  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

issues  at  stake.  He  looked  worn  and  weary.  To 
a  friend  who  urged  him  to  go  away  for  a  fort- 
night's rest,  he  replied,  "I  cannot  fly  from  my 
thoughts.  My  solicitude  for  this  great  country 
follows  me  wherever  I  go.  I  do  not  think  it  is 
personal  vanity  or  ambition,  though  I  am  not 
free  from  these  infirmities,  but  I  cannot  but  feel 
that  the  weal  or  woe  of  this  great  nation  will 
be  decided  in  November.  There  is  no  program 
offered  by  any  wing  of  the  Democratic  party  but 
that  must  result  in  the  permanent  destruction  of 
the  Union." 

The  political  situation  grew  still  darker. 
Toward  the  end  of  August  the  general  gloom 
enveloped  even  the  President  himself.  Then 
what  he  did  was  most  original  and  characteristic. 
Feeling  that  the  campaign  was  going  against 
him,  he  made  up  his  mind  deliberately  the  course 
he  ought  to  pursue,  and  laid  down  for  himself 
the  action  demanded  by  his  strong  sense  of  duty. 
He  wrote  on  August  23  the  following  memo- 
randum: "This  morning,  as  for  some  days  past, 
it  seems  exceedingly  probable  that  this  admin- 
istration will  not  be  reelected.  Then  it  will  be 
my  duty  to  so  cooperate  with  the  President-elect 
as  to  save  the  Union  between  the  election  and  the 
inauguration,  as  he  will  have  secured  his  election 
on  such  ground  that  he  cannot  possibly  save  it 
afterward." 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  253 

He  folded  and  pasted  the  sheet  of  paper  in 
such  a  way  that  its  contents  could  not  be  seen, 
and  as  the  cabinet  came  together  handed  it  to 
each  member  successively,  asking  him  to  write 
his  name  across  the  back  of  it.  In  this  peculiar 
fashion  he  pledged  himself  and  his  administration 
to  accept  loyally  the  verdict  of  the  people  if  it 
should  be  against  them,  and  to  do  their  utmost 
to  save  the  Union  in  the  brief  remainder  of  his 
term  of  office.  He  gave  no  hint  to  any  member 
of  his  cabinet  of  the  nature  of  the  paper  thus 
signed  until  after  his  reelection. 

The  Democratic  convention  finally  came  to- 
gether in  Chicago  on  August  29.  It  declared 
the  war  a  failure,  and  that  efforts  ought  to  be 
made  at  once  to  bring  it  to  a  close,  and  nominated 
General  McClellan  for  President.  McClellan's 
only  chance  of  success  lay  in  his  war  record.  His 
position  as  a  candidate  on  a  platform  of  dishonor- 
able peace  would  have  been  no  less  desperate  than 
ridiculous.  In  his  letter  accepting  the  nomina- 
tion, therefore,  he  calmly  ignored  the  platform, 
and  renewed  his  assurances  of  devotion  to  the 
Union,  the  Constitution,  and  the  flag  of  his  coun- 
try. But  the  stars  in  their  courses  fought  against 
him.  Even  before  the  Democratic  convention 
met,  the  tide  of  battle  had  turned.  The  darkest 
hour  of  the  war  had  passed,  and  dawn  was  at 
hand,  and  amid  the  thanksgivings  of  a  grateful 


254  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

people,  and  the  joyful  salute  of  great  guns,  the 
real  presidential  campaign  began.  The  country- 
awoke  to  the  true  meaning  of  the  Democratic 
platform;  General  Sherman's  successes  in  the 
South  excited  the  enthusiasm  of  the  people;  and 
when  at  last  the  Unionists,  rousing  from  their 
midsummer  languor,  began  to  show  their  faith 
in  the  Republican  candidate,  the  hopelessness  of 
all  efforts  to  undermine  him  became  evident. 


XII 

THE   CONQUEROR   OF   A    GREAT    REBELLION 

THE  presidential  election  of  1864  took  place 
on  November  8.  The  diary  of.  one  of  the 
President's  secretaries  contains  a  curious  record 
of  the  way  the  day  passed  at  the  Executive  Man- 
sion. "The  house  has  been  still  and  almost  de- 
serted. Everybody  in  Washington  and  not  at 
home  voting  seems  ashamed  of  it,  and  stays  away 
from  the  President.  While  I  was  talking  with 
him  to-day  he  said:  Tt  is  a  little  singular  that  I, 
who  am  not  a  vindictive  man,  should  always  have 
been  before  the  people  for  election  in  canvasses 
marked  for  their  bitterness.  Always  but  once. 
When  I  came  to  Congress  it  was  a  quiet  time; 
but  always  besides  that  the  contests  in  which  I 
have  been  prominent  have  been  marked  with 
great  rancor/' 

Early  in  the  evening  the  President  made  his 
way  through  rain  and  darkness  to  the  War 
Department  to  receive  the  returns.  The  tele- 
grams came,  thick  and  fast,  all  pointing  joyously 


256  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

to  his  reelection.  He  sent  the  important  ones 
over  to  Mrs.  Lincoln  at  the  White  House,  re- 
marking, "She  is  more  anxious  that  I  am."  The 
satisfaction  of  one  member  of  the  little  group 
about  him  was  coupled  with  the  wish  that  the 
critics  of  the  administration  might  feel  properly 
rebuked  by  this  strong  expression  of  the  pop- 
ular will.  Mr.  Lincoln  looked  at  him  in 
kindly  surprise.  "You  have  more  of  that  feel- 
ing of  personal  resentment  than  I,"  he  said. 
"Perhaps  I  have  too  little  of  it,  but  I  never 
thought  it  paid.  A  man  has  not  time  to  spend 
half  his  life  in  quarrels.  If  any  man  ceases  to 
attack  me,  I  never  remember  the  past  against 
him."  This  state  of  mind  might  well  have  been 
called  by  a  higher  name  than  "lack  of  personal 
resentment." 

Lincoln  and  Johnson  received  a  popular  major- 
ity of  411,281,  and  212  out  of  233  electoral  votes 
— only  those  of  New  Jersey,  Delaware  and  Ken- 
tucky, twenty-one  in  all,  being  cast  for  McClellan. 

For  Mr.  Lincoln  this  was  one  of  the  most 
solemn  days  of  his  life.  Assured  of  his  personal 
success,  and  made  devoutly  confident  by  the  mili- 
tary victories  of  the  last  few  weeks  that  the  end 
of  the  war  was  at  hand,  he  felt  no  sense  of 
triumph  over  his  opponents.  The  thoughts  that 
filled  his  mind  found  expression  in  the  closing 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  257 

sentences  of  the  little  speech  that  he  made  to 
some  serenaders  who  greeted  him  in  the  early- 
morning  hours  of  November  9,  as  he  left  the 
War  Department  to  return  to  the  White  House : 

"I  am  thankful  to  God  for  this  approval  of 
the  people;  but  while  deeply  grateful  for  this 
mark  of  their  confidence  in  me,  if  I  know  my 
heart,  my  gratitude  is  free  from  any  taint  of 
personal  triumph.  ...  It  is  no  pleasure  to  me 
to  triumph  over  anyone,  but  I  give  thanks  to 
the  Almighty  for  this  evidence  of  the  people's 
resolution  to  stand  by  free  government  and  the 
rights  of  humanity." 

Mr.  Lincoln's  inauguration  for  his  second  term 
as  President  took  place  at  the  time  appointed,  on 
March  4,  1865.  There  is  little  variation  in  the 
simple  but  impressive  pageantry  with  which  the 
ceremony  is  celebrated.  The  principal  novelty 
commented  on  by  the  newspapers  was  the  share 
which  the  people  who  had  up  to  that  time  been 
slaves,  had  for  the  first  time  in  this  public  and 
political  drama.  Associations  of  negro  citizens 
joined  in  the  procession,  and  a  battalion  of  negro 
soldiers  formed  part  of  the  military  escort.  The 
central  act  of  the  occasion  was  President  Lin- 
coln's second  inaugural  address,  which  enriched 
the  political  literature  of  the  nation  with  another 
masterpiece.     He  said: 


258  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

"Fellow-countrymen :  At  this  second  appearing  to  take 
the  oath  of  the  presidential  office,  there  is  less  occasion 
for  an  extended  address  than  there  was  at  the  first.  Then 
a  statement,  somewhat  in  detail,  of  a  course  to  be  pur- 
sued, seemed  fitting  and  proper.  Now,  at  the  expiration 
of  four  years,  during  which  public  declarations  have  been 
constantly  called  forth  on  every  point  and  phase  of  the 
great  contest  which  still  absorbs  the  attention  and  en- 
grosses the  energies  of  the  nation,  little  that  is  new  could 
be  presented.  The  progress  of  our  arms,  upon  which  all 
else  chiefly  depends,  is  as  well  known  to  the  public  as 
to  myself;  and  it  is,  I  trust,  reasonably  satisfactory  and 
encouraging  to  all.  With  high  hope  for  the  future,  no 
prediction  in  regard  to  it  is  ventured. 

"On  the  occasion  corresponding  to  this  four  years  ago, 
all  thoughts  were  anxiously  directed  to  an  impending  civil 
war.  All  dreaded  it — all  sought  to  avert  it.  While  the 
inaugural  address  was  being  delivered  from  this  place, 
devoted  altogether  to  saving  the  Union  without  war, 
insurgent  agents  were  in  the  city  seeking  to  destroy  it 
without  war — seeking  to  dissolve  the  Union  and  divide 
effects,  by  negotiation.  Both  parties  deprecated  war;  but 
one  of  them  would  make  war  rather  than  let  the  nation 
survive ;  and  the  other  would  accept  war  rather  than  let 
it  perish.    And  the  war  came. 

.  "One-eighth  of  the  whole  population  were  colored 
slaves,  not  distributed  generally  over  the  Union,  but  local- 
ized in  the  southern  part  of  it.  These  slaves  constituted  a 
peculiar  and  powerful  interest.  All  knew  that  this  in- 
terest was,  somehow,  the  cause  of  the  war.  To 
strengthen,  perpetuate  and  extend  this  interest  was  the 
object  for  which  the  insurgents  would  rend  the  Union, 
even  by  war;  while  the  government  claimed  no  right  to 
do  more  than  to  restrict  the  territorial  enlargement  of  it. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  259 

"Neither  party  expected  for  the  war  the  magnitude  or 
the  duration  which  it  has  already  attained.  Neither  antici- 
pated that  the  cause  of  the  conflict  might  cease  with,  or 
even  before,  the  conflict  itself  should  cease.  Each  looked 
for  an  easier  triumph,  and  a  result  less  fundamental 
and  astounding.  Both  read  the  same  Bible,  and  pray 
to  the  same  God;  and  each  invokes  his  aid  against 
the  other.  It  may  seem  strange  that  any  men  should 
dare  to  ask  a  just  God's  assistance  in  wringing  their 
bread  from  the  sweat  of  other  men's  faces;  but  let 
us  judge  not,  that  we  be  not  judged.  The  prayers 
of  both  could  not  be  answered — that  of  neither  has 
been  answered  fully. 

"The  Almighty  has  his  own  purposes.  'Woe  unto  the 
world  because  of  offenses !  For  it  must  needs  be  that 
offenses  come ;  but  woe  to  that  man  by  whom  the  offense 
cometh.'  If  we  shall  suppose  that  American  slavery  is 
one  of  those  offenses  which,  in  the  providence  of  God, 
must  needs  come,  but  which,  having  continued  through  his 
appointed  time,  he  now  wills  to  remove,  and  that  he  gives 
to  both  North  and  South  this  terrible  war,  as  the  woe 
due  to  those  by  whom  the  offense  came,  shall  we  discern 
therein  any  departure  from  those  divine  attributes  which 
the  believers  in  a  living  God  always  ascribe  to  him? 
Fondly  do  we  hope — fervently  do  we  pray — that  this 
mighty  scourge  of  war  may  speedily  pass  away.  Yet, 
if  God  wills  that  it  continue  until  all  the  wealth  piled 
by  the  bondman's  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  of  un- 
requited toil  shall  be  sunk,  and  until  every  drop  of  blood 
drawn  with  the  lash  shall  be  paid  by  another  drawn  with 
the  sword,  as  was  said  three  thousand  years  ago,  so  still 
it  must  be  said,  'The  judgments  of  the  Lord  are  true  and 
righteous  altogether.' 


260  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

"With  malice  toward  none ;  with  charity  for  all ;  with 
firmness  in  the  right,  as  God  gives  us  to  see  the  right, 
let  us  strive  on  to  finish  the  work  we  are  in ;  to  bind  up 
the  nation's  wounds ;  to  care  for  him  who  shall  have 
borne  the  battle,  and  for  his  widow,  and  his  orphan — 
to  do  all  which  may  achieve  and  cherish  a  just  and  last- 
ing peace  among  ourselves,  and  with  all  nations." 

The  address  ended,  the  Chief  Justice  arose, 
and  the  listeners  who,  for  the  second  time,  heard 
Abraham  Lincoln  repeat  the  solemn  words  of 
his  oath  of  office,  went  from  the  impressive  scene 
to  their  several  homes  in  thankfulness  and  con- 
fidence that  the  destiny  of  the  nation  was  in  safe 
keeping. 

Nothing  would  have  amazed  Mr.  Lincoln  more 
than  to  hear  himself  called  a  man  of  letters; 
and  yet  it  would  be  hard  to  find  in  all  literature 
anything  to  excel  the  brevity  and  beauty  of  his 
address  at  Gettysburg  or  the  lofty  grandeur  of 
this  Second  Inaugural.  In  Europe  his  style  has 
been  called  a  model  for  the  study  and  imitation 
of  princes,  while  in  our  own  country  many  of  his 
phrases  have  already  passed  into  the  daily  speech 
of  mankind. 

His  gift  of  putting  things  simply  and  clearly 
was  partly  the  habit  of  his  own  clear  mind,  and 
partly  the  result  of  the  training  he  gave  himself  in 
days  of  boyish  poverty,  when  paper  and  ink  were 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  261 

luxuries  almost  beyond  his  reach,  and  the  words 
he  wished  to  set  down  must  be  the  best  words,  and 
the  clearest  and  shortest  to  express  the  ideas  he 
had  in  view.  This  training  of  thought  before 
expression,  of  knowing  exactly  what  he  wished 
to  say  before  saying  it,  stood  him  in  good  stead 
all  his  life;  but  only  the  mind  of  a  great  man, 
with  a  lofty  soul  and  a  poet's  vision;  one  who  had 
suffered  deeply  and  felt  keenly;  who  carried  the 
burden  of  a  nation  on  his  heart,  whose  sympathies 
were  as  broad  and  whose  kindness  was  as  great 
as  his  moral  purpose  was  strong  and  firm,  could 
have  written  the  deep,  forceful,  convincing  words 
that  fell  from  his  pen  in  the  later  years  of  his 
life.  It  was  the  life  he  lived,  the  noble  aim  that 
upheld  him,  as  well  as  the  genius  with  which  he 
was  born,  that  made  him  one  of  the  greatest 
writers  of  our  time. 

At  the  date  of  his  second  inauguration  only 
two  members  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  original  cabinet 
remained  in  office;  but  the  changes  had  all  come 
about  gradually  and  naturally,  never  as  the  re- 
sult of  quarrels,  and  with  the  single  exception 
of  Secretary  Chase,  not  one  of  them  left  the 
cabinet  harboring  feelings  of  resentment  or  bit- 
terness toward  his  late  chief.  Even  when,  in 
one  case,  it  became  necessary  for  the  good  of  the 
service,  for  Mr.  Lincoln  to  ask  a  cabinet  minister 


262 


THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 


to  resign,  that  gentleman  not  only  unquestion- 
ingly  obeyed,  but  entered  into  the  presidential 
campaign  immediately  afterward,  working  heart- 
ily and  effectively  for  his  reelection.  As  for 
Secretary  Chase,  the  President  was  so  little  dis- 


PHOTO    OF   LINCOLN,    MARCH    6,    1865 


turbed  by  his  attitude  that,  on  the  death  of  Roger 
B.  Taney,  the  Chief  Justice  of  the  United  States 
Supreme  Court,  he  made  him  his  successor,  giv- 
ing him  the  highest  judicial  office  in  the  land,  and 
paying  him  the  added  compliment  of  writing 
out  his  nomination  with  his  own  hand. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  263 

The  keynote  of  the  President's  young  life  had 
been  persevering  industry.  That  of  his  mature 
years  was  self-control  and  generous  forgiveness. 
And  surely  his  remark  on  the  night  of  his  second 
election  for  President,  that  he  did  not  think  re- 
sentment "paid,"  and  that  no  man  had  time  to 
spend  half  his  life  in  quarrels,  was  well  borne 
out  by  the  fruit  of  his  actions.  It  was  this  spirit 
alone  which  made  possible  much  that  he  was  able 
to  accomplish.  His  rule  of  conduct  toward  all 
men  is  summed  up  in  a  letter  of  reprimand  that 
it  became  his  duty,  while  he  was  President,  to 
send  to  one  young  officer  accused  of  quarreling 
with  another.  It  deserves  to  be  written  in  letters 
of  gold  on  the  walls  of  every  school  and  college 
throughout  the  land: 


"The  advice  of  a  father  to  his  son,  ^beware  of  entrance 
to  a  quarrel,  but,  being  in,  bear  it  that  the  opposed  may 
beware  of  thee,'  is  good,  but  not  the  best.  Quarrel  not 
at  all.  No  man  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  himself  can 
spare  time  for  personal  contention.  Still  less  can  he 
afford  to  take  all  the  consequences,  including  the  vitiating 
of  his  temper  and  the  loss  of  self-control.  Yield  larger 
things  to  which  you  can  show  no  more  than  equal  right; 
and  yield  lesser  ones  though  clearly  your  own.  Better 
give  your  path  to  a  dog  than  be  bitten  by  him  in  con- 
testing for  the  right.  Even  killing  the  dog  would  not 
cure  the  bite" 


264  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

It  was  this  willingness  of  his  to  give  up  the 
"lesser  things,"  and  even  the  things  to  which  he 
could  claim  an  equal  right,  which  kept  peace  in 
his  cabinet,  made  up  of  men  of  strong  wills  and 
conflicting  natures.    Their  devotion  to  the  Union, 
great  as  it  was,  would  not  have  sufficed  in  such 
a  strangely  assorted  official  family;  but  his  un- 
failing kindness  and  good  sense  led  him  to  over- 
look many  things  that  another  man  might  have 
regarded  as  deliberate  insults;  while  his  great 
tact  and  knowledge  of  human  nature  enabled  him 
to  bring  out  the  best  in  people  about  him,  and 
at    times    to    turn    their    very    weaknesses    into 
sources  of  strength.    It  made  it  possible  for  him 
to  keep  the  regard  of  every  one  of  them.    Before 
he  had  been  in  office  a  month  it  had  transformed 
Secretary  Seward  from  his  rival  into  his  last- 
ing friend.     It  made  a  warm  friend  out  of  the 
blunt,  positive,  hot-tempered  Edwin  M.  Stanton, 
who  became  Secretary  of  War  in  place  of  Mr. 
Cameron.     He  was  a  man  of  strong  will  and 
great   endurance,   and   gave  his   Department   a 
record  for  hard  and  effective  work  that  it  would 
be  difficult  to  equal.     Many  stories  are  told  of 
the  disrespect  he  showed  the  President,  and  the 
cross-purposes  at  which  they  labored.    The  truth 
is,  that  they  understood  each  other  perfectly  on 
all    important    matters,    and    worked    together 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  265 

through  three  busy  trying  years  with  ever-in- 
creasing affection  and  regard.  The  President's 
kindly  humor  forgave  his  Secretary  many  blunt 
speeches.  "Stanton  says  I  am  a  fool?"  he  is  re- 
ported to  have  asked  a  busy-body  who  came 
fleet-footed  to  tell  him  of  the  Secretary's  hasty 
comment  on  an  order  of  little  moment.  "Stanton 
says  I  am  a  fool?  Well" — with  a  whimsical 
glance  at  his  informant — "then  I  suppose  I  must 
be.  Stanton  is  nearly  always  right."  Knowing 
that  Stanton  was  "nearly  always  right,"  it  made 
little  difference  to  his  chief  what  he  might  say 
in  the  heat  of  momentary  annoyance. 

Yet  in  spite  of  his  forbearance  he  never  gave 
up  the  "larger  things"  that  he  felt  were  of  real 
importance;  and  when  he  learned  at  one  time 
that  an  effort  was  being  made  to  force  a  member 
of  the  cabinet  to  resign,  he  called  them  together, 
and  read  them  the  following  impressive  little 
lecture : 

"I  must  myself  be  the  judge  how  long  to  retain  in, 
and  when  to  remove  any  of  you  from  his  position.  It 
would  greatly  pain  me  to  discover  any  of  you  endeavoring 
to  procure  another's  removal,  or  in  any  way  to  prejudice 
him  before  the  public.  Such  endeavor  would  be  a  wrong 
to  me,  and  much  worse,  a  wrong  to  the  country.  My 
wish  is  that  on  this  subject  no  remark  be  made,  nor 
question  asked  by  any  of  you,  here,  or  elsewhere,  now, 
or  hereafter." 


266  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

This  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  speeches 
ever  made  by  a  President.  Washington  was 
never  more  dignified;  Jackson  was  never  more 
peremptory. 

The  President's  spirit  of  forgiveness  was  broad 
enough  to  take  in  the  entire  South.  The  cause 
of  the  Confederacy  had  been  doomed  from  the 
hour  of  his  reelection.  The  cheering  of  the 
troops  which  greeted  the  news  had  been  heard 
within  the  lines  at  Richmond,  and  the  besieged 
town  lost  hope,  though  it  continued  the  struggle 
bravely  if  desperately. '  Although  Horace  Gree- 
ley's peace  mission  to  Canada  had  come  to  noth- 
ing, and  other  volunteer  efforts  in  the  same  direc- 
tion served  only  to  call  forth  a  declaration  from 
Jefferson  Davis  that  he  would  fight  for  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  South  to  the  bitter  end,  Mr. 
Lincoln  watched  longingly  for  the  time  when 
the  first  move  could  be  made  toward  peace. 
Early  in  January,  1865,  as  the  country  was  about 
to  enter  upon  the  fifth  year  of  actual  war,  he 
learned  from  Hon.  Francis  P.  Blair,  Sr.,  who 
had  been  in  Richmond,  how  strong  the  feeling 
of  discouragement  at  the  Confederate  capital 
had  become.  Mr.  Blair  was  the  father  of  Lin- 
coln's first  Postmaster-General,  a  man  of  large 
acquaintance  in  the  South,  who  knew  perhaps 
better   than    anyone   in   Washington   the   char- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  267 

acter  and  temper  of  the  southern  leaders.  He 
had  gone  to  Richmond  hoping  to  do  something 
toward  bringing  the  war  to  a  close,  but  without 
explaining  his  plans  to  anyone,  and  with  no 
authority  from  the  government,  beyond  permis- 
sion to  pass  through  the  military  lines  and  return. 
His  scheme  was  utterly  impracticable,  and  Mr. 
Lincoln  was  interested  in  the  report  of  his  visit 
only  because  it  showed  that  the  rebellion  was 
nearing  its  end.  This  was  so  marked  that  he 
sent  Mr.  Blair  back  again  to  Richmond  with  a 
note  intended  for  the  eye  of  Jefferson  Davis, 
saying  that  the  government  had  constantly  been, 
was  then,  and  would  continue  to  be  ready  to  re- 
ceive any  agent  Mr.  Davis  might  send,  "with 
a  view  of  securing  peace  to  the  people  of  our  one 
common  country." 

Hopeless  as  their  cause  had  by  this  time  be- 
come, the  Confederates  had  no  mind  to  treat  for 
peace  on  any  terms  except  independence  of  the 
southern  States;  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  they 
were  in  such  straits  that  they  could  not  afford 
to  leave  Mr.  Lincoln's  offer  untested.  Mr.  Davis 
therefore  sent  north  his  Vice-President,  Alex- 
ander H.  Stephens,  with  two  other  high  officials 
of  the  Confederate  government,  armed  with  in- 
structions which  aimed  to  be  liberal  enough  to 
gain  them  admittance  to  the  Union  lines,  and 


268  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

yet  distinctly  announced  that  they  came  "for  the 
purpose  of  securing  peace  to  the  two  countries." 
This  difference  in  the  wording  of  course  doomed 
their  mission  in  advance,  for  the  government  at 
Washington  had  never  admitted  that  there  were 
"two  countries,"  and  to  receive  the  messengers 
of  Jefferson  Davis  on  any  such  terms  would  be 
to  concede  practically  all  that  the  South  asked. 

When  they  reached  the  Union  lines  the  officer 
who  met  them  informed  them  that  they  could  go 
no  farther  unless  they  accepted  the  President's 
conditions.  They  finally  changed  the  form  of 
their  request,  and  were  taken  to  Fortress  Monroe. 
Meantime  Mr.  Lincoln  had  sent  Secretary 
Seward  to  Fortress  Monroe  with  instructions  to 
hear  all  they  might  have  to  say,  but  not  to  defi- 
nitely conclude  anything.  On  learning  the  true 
nature  of  their  errand  he  was  about  to  recall 
him,  when  he  received  a  telegram  from  General 
Grant,  regretting  that  Mr.  Lincoln  himself  could 
not  see  the  commissioners,  because,  to  Grant's 
mind,  they  seemed  sincere. 

Anxious  to  do  everything  he  could  in  the 
interest  of  peace,  Mr.  Lincoln,  instead  of  recall- 
ing Secretary  Seward,  telegraphed  that  he  would 
himself  come  to  Fortress  Monroe,  and  started  that 
same  night.  The  next  morning,  February  3,  1865, 
he  and  the  Secretary  of  State  received  the  rebel 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  269 

commissioners  on  board  the  President's  steamer, 
the  River  Queen. 

This  conference  between  the  two  highest  of- 
ficials of  the  United  States  government,  and  three 
messengers  from  the  Confederacy,  bound,  as  the 
President  well  knew  beforehand,  by  instructions 
which  made  any  practical  outcome  impossible, 
brings  out,  in  strongest  relief,  Mr.  Lincoln's 
kindly  patience,  even  toward  the  rebellion.  He 
was  determined  to  leave  no  means  untried  that 
might,  however  remotely,  lead  to  peace.  For  four 
hours  he  patiently  answered  the  many  questions 
they  asked  him,  as  to  what  would  probably  be 
done  on  various  subjects  if  the  South  submitted; 
pointing  out  always  the  difference  between  the 
things  that  he  had  the  power  to  decide,  and  those 
that  must  be  submitted  to  Congress ;  and  bringing 
the  discussion  back,  time  and  again,  to  the  three 
points  absolutely  necessary  to  secure  peace — 
Union,  freedom  for  the  slaves,  and  complete  dis- 
bandment  of  the  Confederate  armies.  He  had 
gone  to  ofTer  them,  honestly  and  frankly,  the  best 
terms  in  his  power,  but  not  to  give  up  one  atom 
of  official  dignity  or  duty.  Their  main  thought, 
on  the  contrary,  had  been  to  postpone  or  to  escape 
the  express  conditions  on  which  they  were  ad- 
mitted to  the  conference. 

They  returned  to  Richmond  and  reported  the 


270  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

failure  of  their  efforts  to  Jefferson  Davis,  whose 
disappointment  equalled  their  own,  for  all  had 
caught  eagerly  at  the  hope  that  this  interview 
would  somehow  prove  a  means  of  escape  from 
the  dangers  of  their  situation.  President  Lin- 
coln, full  of  kindly  thoughts,  on  the  other  hand, 
went  back  to  Washington,  intent  on  making  yet 
one  more  generous  offer  to  hasten  the  day  of 
peace.  He  had  told  the  commissioners  that  per- 
sonally he  would  be  in  favor  of  the  government 
paying  a  liberal  amount  for  the  loss  of  slave 
property,  on  condition  that  the  southern  States 
agree  of  their  own  accord  to  the  freedom  of  the 
slaves.1  This  was  indeed  going  to  the  extreme 
of  liberality,  but  Mr.  Lincoln  remembered  that 

1  Mr.  Lincoln  had  freed  the  slaves  two  years  before  as  a  mili- 
tary necessity,  and  as  such  it  had  been  accepted  by  all.  Yet  a 
question  might  arise,  when  the  war  ended,  as  to  whether  this 
act  of  his  had  been  lawful.  He  was  therefore  very  anxious  to 
have  freedom  find  a  place  in  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States.  This  could  only  be  done  by  an  amendment  to  the  Con- 
stitution, proposed  by  Congress,  and  adopted  by  the  legislatures 
of  three-fourths  of  the  States  of  the  Union.  Congress  voted 
in  favor  of  such  an  amendment  on  January  31,  1865.  Illinois, 
*he  President's  own  State,  adopted  it  on  the  very  next  day,  and 
though  Mr.  Lincoln  did  not  live  to  see  it  a  part  of  the  Consti- 
tution, Secretary  Seward,  on  December  18,  1865,  only  a  few 
months  after  Mr.  Lincoln's  death,  was  able  to  make  official  an- 
nouncement that  29  States,  constituting  a  majority  of  three- 
fourths  of  the  36  States  of  the  Union,  had  adopted  it,  and  that 
therefore  it  was  the  law  of  the  land. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  271 

notwithstanding  all  their  offenses  the  rebels  were 
American  citizens,  members  of  the  same  nation 
and  brothers  of  the  same  blood.  He  re- 
membered, too,  that  the  object  of  the  war,  equally 
with  peace  and  freedom,  was  to  preserve  friend- 
ship and  to  continue  the  Union.  Filled  with 
such  thoughts  and  purposes  he  spent  the  day  after 
his  return  in  drawing  up  a  new  proposal  designed 
as  a  peace  offering  to  the  States  in  rebellion.  On 
the  evening  of  February  5  he  read  this  to  his 
cabinet.  It  offered  the  southern  States  $400,- 
000,000,  or  a  sum  equal  to  the  cost  of  war  for 
two  hundred  days,  on  condition  that  all  fighting 
cease  by  the  first  of  April,  1865.  He  proved 
more  liberal  than  any  of  his  advisers;  and  with 
the  words,  "You  are  all  against  me,"  sadly  ut- 
tered, the  President  folded  up  the  paper,  and 
ended  the  discussion. 

Jefferson  Davis  had  issued  a  last  appeal  to 
"fire  the  southern  heart,"  but  the  situation  at 
Richmond  was  becoming  desperate  Flour  cost 
a  thousand  dollars  a  barrel  in  Confederate  money, 
and  neither  the  flour  nor  the  money  were  suffi- 
cient for  their  needs.  Squads  of  guards  were 
sent  into  the  streets  with  directions  to  arrest 
every  able-bodied  man  they  met,  and  force  him 
to  work  in  defense  of  the  town.  It  is  said  that 
the  medical  boards  were  ordered  to  excuse  no 


272  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

one  from  military  service  who  was  well  enough 
to  bear  arms  for  even  ten  days.  Human  nature 
will  not  endure  a  strain  like  this,  and  desertion 
grew  too  common  to  punish.  Nevertheless  the 
city  kept  up  its  defense  until  April  3.  Even  then, 
although  hopelessly  beaten,  the  Confederacy  was 
not  willing  to  give  in,  and  much  needless  and 
severe  fighting  took  place  before  the  final  end 
came.  The  rebel  government  hurried  away  to- 
ward the  South,  and  Lee  bent  all  his  energies 
to  saving  his  army  and  taking  it  to  join  General 
Johnston,  who  still  held  out  against  Sherman. 
Grant  pursued  him  with  such  energy  that  he 
did  not  even  allow  himself  the  pleasure  of  en- 
tering the  captured  rebel  capital.  The  chase  con- 
tinued six  days.  On  the  evening  of  April  8  the 
Union  army  succeeded  in  planting  itself  squarely 
across  Lee's  line  of  retreat;  and  the  marching 
and  fighting  of  his  army  were  over  for  ever. 
On  the  next  morning  the  two  generals  met  in 
a  house  on  the  edge  of  the  village  of  Appomattox, 
Virginia,  Lee  resplendent  in  a  new  uniform  and 
handsome  sword,  Grant  in  the  travel-stained  gar- 
ments in  which  he  had  made  the  campaign — 
the  blouse  of  a  private  soldier,  with  the  shoulder- 
straps  of  a  Lieutenant-General.  Here  the  sur- 
render took  place.  Grant,  as  courteous  in  victory 
as  he  was  energetic  in  war,  offered  Lee  terms 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  273 

that  were  liberal  in  the  extreme ;  and  on  learning 
that  the  Confederate  soldiers  were  actually  suf- 
fering with  hunger,  ordered  that  rations  be  is- 
sued to  them  at  once. 

Fire  and  destruction  attended  the  flight  of  the 
Confederates  from  Richmond.  Jefferson  Davis 
and  his  cabinet,  carrying  with  them  their  more 
important  state  papers,  left  the  doomed  city  on 
one  of  the  crowded  and  overloaded  railroad  trains 
on  the  night  of  April  2,  beginning  a  southward 
flight  that  ended  only  with  Mr.  Davis's  capture 
about  a  month  later.  The  legislature  of  Virginia 
and  the  governor  of  the  State  departed  hurriedly 
on  a  canal-boat  in  the  direction  of  Lynchburg, 
while  every  possible  carriage  or  vehicle  was 
pressed  into  service  by  the  inhabitants,  all  frantic 
to  get  away  before  their  city  was  "desecrated" 
by  the  presence  of  the  Yankees.  By  the  time  the 
military  left,  early  on  the  morning  of  Aprrl  3, 
the  town  was  on  fire.  The  Confederate  Congress 
had  ordered  all  government  tobacco  and  other 
public  property  to  be  burned.  The  rebel  General 
Ewell,  who  was  in  charge  of  the  city,  asserts  that 
he  took  the  responsibility  of  disobeying,  and  that 
the  fires  were  not  started  by  his  orders.  Be  that 
as  it  may,  they  broke  out  in  various  places,  while 
a  mob,  crazed  with  excitement,  and  wild  with 
the  alcohol  that  had  run  freely  in  the  gutters  the 


274  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

night  before,  rushed  from  store  to  store,  breaking 
in  the  doors,  and  indulging  in  all  the  wantonness 
of  pillage  and  greed.  Public  spirit  seemed  par- 
alyzed; no  real  effort  was  made  to  put  out  the 
flames,  and  as  a  final  horror,  the  convicts  from 
the  penitentiary,  overpowering  their  guards,  ap- 
peared upon  the  streets,  a  maddened,  shouting, 
leaping  crowd,  drunk  with  liberty. 

It  is  quite  possible  that  the  very  size  and  sud- 
denness of  the  disaster  served  in  a  measure  to 
lessen  its  evil  effects;  for  the  burning  of  seven 
hundred  buildings,  the  entire  business  portion 
of  Richmond,  all  in  the  brief  space  of  a  day,  was 
a  visitation  so  sudden,  so  stupefying  and  unex- 
pected as  to  overawe  and  terrorize  even  evil- 
doers. Before  a  new  danger  could  arise  help 
was  at  hand.  Gen.  Weitzel,  to  whom  the  city 
surrendered,  took  up  his  headquarters  in  the 
house  lately  occupied  by  Jefferson  Davis,  and 
promptly  set  about  the  work  of  relief;  fighting 
the  fire,  issuing  rations  to  the  poor,  and  restoring 
order  and  authority.  That  a  regiment  of  black 
soldiers  assisted  in  this  work  of  mercy  must  have 
seemed  to  the  white  inhabitants  of  Richmond  the 
final  drop  in  their  cup  of  misery. 

Into  the  rebel  capital,  thus  stricken  and  laid 
waste,  came  President  Lincoln  on  the  morning 
of  April  4.     Never  in  the  history  of  the  world 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  275 

has  the  head  of  a  mighty  nation  and  the  con- 
querer  of  a  great  rebellion  entered  the  captured 
chief  city  of  the  insurgents  in  such  humbleness 
and  simplicity.  He  had  gone  two  weeks  before 
to  City  Point  for  a  visit  to  General  Grant,  and 
to  his  son,  Captain  Robert  Lincoln,  who  was  serv- 
ing on  Grant's  staff.  Making  his  home  on  the 
steamer  that  brought  him,  and  enjoying  what 
was  probably  the  most  restful  and  satisfactory 
holiday  in  which  he  had  been  able  to  indulge  dur- 
ing his  whole  presidential  service,  he  had  visited 
the  various  camps  of  the  great  army,  in  company 
with  the  Genera],  cheered  everywhere  by  the 
loving  greetings  of  the  soldiers.  He  had  met 
Sherman  when  that  commander  hurried  up  fresh 
from  his  victorious  march  from  Atlanta;  and 
after  Grant  had  started  on  his  final  pursuit  of 
Lee  the  President  still  lingered.  It  was  at  City 
Point  that  the  news  came  to  him  of  the  fall  of 
Richmond. 

Between  the  receipt  of  this  news  and  the  fol- 
lowing forenoon,  before  any  information  of  the 
great  fire  had  reached  them,  a  visit  to  the  rebel 
capital  was  arranged  for  the  President  and  Rear- 
Admiral  Porter.  Ample  precautions  for  their 
safety  were  taken  at  the  start.  The  President 
went  in  his  own  steamer,  the  River  Queen,  with 
her  escort,  the  Bat,  and  a  tug  used  at  City  Point 


276  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

in  landing  from  the  steamer.  Admiral  Porter 
went  in  his  flagship;  while  a  transport  carried  a 
small  cavalry  escort,  as  well  as  ambulances  for 
the  party.  Barriers  in  the  river  soon  made  it 
impossible  to  proceed  in  this  fashion,  and  one 
unforeseen  accident  after  another  rendered  it 
necessary  to  leave  behind  the  larger  and  even 
the  smaller  boats ;  until  finally  the  party  went  on 
in  the  Admiral's  barge  rowed  by  twelve  sailors, 
without  escort  of  any  kind.  In  this  manner  the 
President  made  his  entry  into  Richmond,  landing 
near  Libby  Prison.  As  the  party  stepped  ashore 
they  found  a  guide  among  the  contrabands  who 
quickly  crowded  the  streets,  for  the  possible 
coming  of  the  President  had  already  been  noised 
through  the  city.  Ten  of  the  sailors  armed  with 
carbines  were  formed  as  a  guard,  six  in  front, 
and  four  in  rear,  and  between  them  the  President 
and  Admiral  Porter,  with  the  three  officers  who 
accompanied  them,  walked  the  long  distance,  per- 
haps a  mile  and  a  half,  to  the  centre  of  the  town. 
Imagination  can  easily  fill  in  the  picture  of  a 
gradually  increasing  crowd,  principally  of 
negroes,  following  the  little  group  of  marines 
and  officers  with  the  tall  form  of  the  President 
in  its  centre;  and,  when  they  learned  that  it  was 
indeed  "Massa  Lincum,"  expressing  their  joy 
and  gratitude  in  fervent  blessings  and  in  the  deep 


278  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

emotional  cries  of  the  colored  race.  It  is  easy 
also  to  imagine  the  sharp  anxiety  of  those  who 
had  the  President's  safety  in  their  charge  during 
this  tiresome  and  even  foolhardy  march  through 
a  town  still  in  flames,  whose  white  inhabitants 
were  sullenly  resentful  at  best,  and  whose  grief 
and  anger  might  at  any  moment  break  out 
against  the  man  they  looked  upon  as  the  chief 
author  of  their  misfortunes.  No  accident  befell 
him.  He  reached  General  Weitzel's  headquarters 
in  safety,  rested  in  the  house  Jefferson  Davis  had 
occupied  while  President  of  the  Confederacy;  and 
after  a  day  of  sightseeing  returned  to  his  steamer 
and  to  Washington,  there  to  be  stricken  down  by 
an  assassin's  bullet,  literally  "in  the  house  of  his 
friends." 


XIII 

THE   FOURTEENTH    OF   APRIL 

REFRESHED  in  body  by  his  visit  to  City 
Point,  and  greatly  cheered  by  the  fall  of 
Richmond,  and  unmistakable  signs  that  the  war 
was  over,  Mr.  Lincoln  went  back  to  Washington 
intent  on  the  new  task  opening  before  him — 
that  of  restoring  the  Union,  and  of  bringing 
about  peace  and  good  will  again  between  the 
North  and  the  South.  His  whole  heart  was  bent 
on  the  work  of  "binding  up  the  nation's  wounds" 
and  doing  all  which  lay  in  his  power  to  "achieve 
a  just  and  lasting  peace."  Especially  did  he  de- 
sire to  avoid  the  shedding  of  blood,  or  anything 
like  acts  of  deliberate  punishment.  He  talked 
to  his  cabinet  in  this  strain  on  the  morning  of 
April  14,  the  last  day  of  his  life.  "No  one  need 
expect  that  he  would  take  any  part  in  hanging 
or  killing  these  men,  even  the  worst  of  them," 
he  exclaimed.  Enough  lives  had  been  sacrificed 
already.    Anger  must  be  put  aside.    The  great 


28o  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

need  now  was  to  begin  to  act  in  the  interest  of 
peace.  With  these  words  of  clemency  and  kind- 
ness in  their  ears  they  left  him,  never  again  to 
come  together  under  his  wise  chairmanship. 

Though  it  was  invariably  held  in  check  by  his 
vigorous  commonsense,  there  was  in  Mr.  Lin- 
coln's nature  a  strong  vein  of  poetry  and  mys- 
ticism. That  morning  he  told  his  cabinet  a  strange 
story  of  a  dream  that  he  had  had  the  night 
before — a  dream  which  he  said  came  to  him  be- 
fore great  events.  He  had  dreamed  it  before 
the  battles  of  Antietam,  Murfreesboro',  Gettys- 
burg and  Vicksburg.  This  time  it  must  foretell 
a  victory  by  Sherman  over  Johnston's  army,  news 
of  which  was  hourly  expected,  for  he  knew  of  no 
other  important  event  likely  to  occur.  The  mem- 
bers of  the  cabinet  were  deeply  impressed;  but 
General  Grant,  who  had  come  to  Washington 
that  morning  and  was  present,  remarked  with 
matter-of-facj:  exactness  that  Murfreesboro'  was 
no  victory  and  had  no  important  results.  Not 
the  wildest  imagination  of  skeptic  or  mystic 
could  have  pictured  the  events  under  which  the 
day  was  to  close. 

It  was  Good  Friday,  a  day  observed  by  a  por- 
tion of  the  people  with  fasting  and  prayer,  but 
even  among  the  most  devout  the  great  news  of 
the  week  just  ended  changed  this  time  of  tradi- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  281 

tional  mourning  into  a  season  of  general  thanks- 
giving. For  Mr.  Lincoln  it  was  a  day  of  unusual 
and  quiet  happiness.  His  son  Robert  had  re- 
turned from  the  field  with  General  Grant,  and 
the  President  spent  an  hour  with  the  young  cap- 
tain in  delighted  conversation  over  the  campaign. 
He  denied  himself  generally  to  visitors,  admitting 
only  a  few  friends.  In  the  afternoon  he  went  for 
a  long  drive  with  Mrs.  Lincoln.  His  mood,  as 
it  had  been  all  day,  was  singularly  happy  and 
tender.  He  talked  much  of  the  past  and  future. 
After  four  years  of  trouble  and  tumult  he  looked 
forward  to  four  years  of  quiet  and  normal  work ; 
after  that  he  expected  to  go  back  again  to  Illinois 
and  practice  law.  He  was  never  more  simple  or 
more  gentle  than  on  this  day  of  triumph.  His 
heart  overflowed  with  sentiments  of  gratitude  to 
Heaven,  which  took  the  shape,  usual  to  generous 
natures,  of  love  and  kindness  to  all  men. 

From  the  very  beginning  there  had  been 
threats  to  kill  him.  He  was  constantly  receiving 
letters  of  warning  from  zealous  or  nervous 
friends.  The  War  Department  inquired  into 
these  when  there  seemed  to  be  ground  for  doing 
so,  but  always  without  result.  Warnings  that 
appeared  most  definite  proved  on  examination  too 
vague  and  confused  for  further  attention.  The 
President  knew  that  he  was  in  some  danger. 


282  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

Madmen  frequently  made  their  way  to  the  very 
door  of  the  Executive  Office;  sometimes  into  Mr. 
Lincoln's  presence;  but  he  himself  had  so  sane  a 
mind,  and  a  heart  so  kindly  even  to  his  enemies, 
that  it  was  hard  for  him  to  believe  in  political 
hatred  deadly  enough  to  lead  to  murder.  He 
summed  up  the  matter  by  saying  that  since  he 
must  receive  both  friends  and  strangers  every 
day,  his  life  was  of  course  within  the  reach  of 
any  one,  sane  or  mad,  who  was  ready  to  murder 
and  be  hanged  for  it,  and  that  he  could  not  pos- 
sibly guard  against  all  danger  unless  he  shut 
himself  up  in  an  iron  box,  where  he  could  scarce- 
ly perform  the  duties  of  a  President. 

He  therefore  went  in  and  out  before  the  people, 
always  unarmed,  generally  unattended.  He  re- 
ceived hundreds  of  visitors  in  a  day,  his  breast 
bare  to  pistol  or  knife.  He  walked  at  midnight, 
with  a  single  Secretary  or  alone,  from  the  Ex- 
ecutive Mansion  to  the  War  Department  and 
back.  In  summer  he  rode  through  lonely  roads 
from  the  White  House  to  the  Soldiers'  Home  in 
the  dusk  of  the  evening,  and  returned  to  his  work 
in  the  morning  before  the  town  was  astir.  He 
was  greatly  annoyed  when  it  was  decided  that 
there  must  be  a  guard  at  the  Executive  Mansion, 
and  that  a  squad  of  cavalry  must  accompany  him 
on  his  daily  drive ;  but  he  was  always  reasonable, 
and  yielded  to  the  best  judgment  of  others. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  283 

Four  years  of  threats  and  boastings  that  were 
unfounded,  and  of  plots  that  came  to  nothing 
passed  away,  until  precisely  at  the  time  when  the 
triumph  of  the  nation  seemed  assured,  and  a 
feeling  of  peace  and  security  settled  over  the 
country,  one  of  the  conspiracies,  seemingly  no 
more  important  than  the  others,  ripened  in  a 
sudden  heat  of  hatred  and  despair. 

A  little  band  of  desperate  secessionists,  of 
which  John  Wilkes  Booth,  an  actor  of  a  family 
of  famous  players,  was  the  head,  had  their  usual 
meeting-place  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Mary  E. 
Surratt,  the  mother  of  one  of  the  number.  Booth 
was  a  young  man  of  twenty-six,  strikingly  hand- 
some, with  an  ease  and  grace  of  manner  which 
came  to  him  of  right  from  his  theatrical  ances- 
tors. He  was  a  fanatical  southerner,  with  a 
furious  hatred  against  Lincoln  and  the  Union. 
After  Lincoln's  reelection  he  went  to  Canada, 
and  associated  with  the  Confederate  agents 
there;  and  whether  or  not  with  their  advice,  made 
a  plan  to  capture  the  President  and  take  him  to 
Richmond.  He  passed  a  great  part  of  the  autumn 
and  winter  pursuing  this  fantastic  scheme,  but 
the  winter  wore  away,  and  nothing  was  done. 
On  March  4  he  was  at  the  Capitol,  and  created  a 
disturbance  by  trying  to  force  his  way  through 
the  line  of  policemen  who  guarded  the  passage 
through  which  the  President  walked  to  the  East 


i%l  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

front  of  the  building  to  read  his  Second  Inau- 
gural. His  intentions  at  this  time  are  not  known. 
He  afterwards  said  he  lost  an  excellent  chance  of 
killing  the  President  that  day. 

After  the  surrender  of  Lee,  in  a  rage  akin  to 
madness,  he  called  his  fellow-conspirators  to- 
gether and  allotted  to  each  his  part  in  the  new 
crime  which  had  risen  in  his  mind.  It  was  as 
simple  as  it  was  horrible.  One  man  was  to  kill 
Secretary  Seward,  another  to  make  way  with 
Andrew  Johnson,  at  the  same  time  that  he  mur- 
dered the  President.  The  final  preparations  were 
made  with  feverish  haste.  It  was  only  about 
noon  of  the  fourteenth  that  Booth  learned  that 
Mr.  Lincoln  meant  to  go  to  Ford's  Theatre  that 
night  to  see  the  play  "Our  American  Cousin." 
The  President  enjoyed  the  theatre.  It  was  one 
of  his  few  means  of  recreation,  and  as  the  town 
was  then  thronged  with  soldiers  and  officers  all 
eager  to  see  him,  he  could,  by  appearing  in  pub- 
lic, gratify  many  whom  he  could  not  personally 
meet. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  asked  General  and  Mrs.  Grant 
to  accompany  her.  They  accepted,  and  the  an- 
nouncement that  they  would  be  present  was  made 
in  the  evening  papers,  but  they  changed  their 
plans  and  went  north  by  an  afternoon  train.  Mrs. 
Lincoln  then  invited  in  their  stead  Miss  Harris 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  285 

and  Major  Rathbone,  daughter  and  stepson  of 
Senator  Ira  Harris.  Being  detained  by  visitors, 
the  play  had  made  some  progress  when  the  Presi- 
dent appeared.  The  band  struck  up  "Hail  to  the 
Chief,"  the  actors  ceased  playing,  the  audience 
rose  and  cheered,  the  President  bowed  in  ac- 
knowledgment, and  the  play  went  on  again. 

From  the  moment  he  learned  of  the  President's 
intention  Booth's  actions  were  alert  and  ener- 
getic. He  and  his  confederates  were  seen  in 
every  part  of  the  city.  Booth  was  perfectly  at 
home  in  Ford's  Theatre.  He  counted  upon  auda- 
city to  reach  the  small  passage  behind  the  Presi- 
dent's box.  Once  there,  he  guarded  against  in- 
terference by  arranging  a  wooden  bar,  to  be 
fastened  by  a  simple  mortice  in  the  angle  of  the 
wall  and  the  door  by  which  he  entered,  so  that 
once  shut,  the  door  could  not  be  opened  from  the 
outside.  He  even  provided  for  the  chance  of  not 
gaining  entrance  to  the  box  by  boring  a  hole  in 
the  door,  through  which  he  might  either  observe 
the  occupants,  or  take  aim  and  shoot.  He  hired 
at  a  livery  stable  a  small  fleet  horse. 

A  few  moments  before  ten  o'clock,  leaving  his 
horse  at  the  rear  of  the  theatre,  in  charge  of  a 
call-boy,  he  entered  the  building,  passing  rapidly 
to  the  little  hallway  leading  to  the  President's 
box.     Showing  a  card  to  the  servant  in  attend- 


aS6  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

ance,  he  was  allowed  to  enter,  closed  the  door 
noiselessly,  and  secured  it  with  the  wooden  bar 
he  had  made  ready,  without  disturbing  any  of 
the  occupants  of  the  box,  between  whom  and 
himself  yet  remained  the  partition  and  the  door 
through  which  he  had  bored  the  hole. 

No  one,  not  even  the  actor  who  uttered  them, 
could  ever  remember  the  last  words  of  the  piece 
that  were  spoken  that  night — the  last  that 
Abraham  Lincoln  heard  upon  earth;  for  the 
tragedy  in  the  box  turned  play  and  players  alike 
to  the  most  unsubstantial  of  phantoms.  For 
weeks  hate  and  brandy  had  kept  Booth's  brain  in 
a  morbid  state.  He  seemed  to  himself  to  be 
taking  part  in  a  great  play.  Holding  a  pistol  in 
one  hand  and  a  knife  in  the  other,  he  opened 
the  box  door,  put  the  pistol  to  the  President's 
head,  and  fired.  Major  Rathbone  sprang  to 
grapple  with  him,  and  received  a  savage  knife 
wound  in  the  arm.  Then,  rushing  forward, 
Booth  placed  his  hand  on  the  railing  of  the  box 
and  vaulted  to  the  stage.  It  was  a  high  leap,  but 
nothing  to  such  a  trained  athlete.  He  would  have 
got  safely  away,  had  not  his  spur  caught  in  the 
flag  that  draped  the  front  of  the  box.  He  fell, 
the  torn  flag  trailing  on  his  spur ;  but  though  the 
fall  had  broken  his  leg,  he  rose  instantly  brand- 
ishing his  knife  and  shouting,  "Sic  Semper  Ty- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  287 

rannis!"  fled  rapidly  across  the  stage  and  out  of 
sight.  Major  Rathbone  shouted,  "Stop  him!" 
The  cry,  "He  has  shot  the  President!"  rang 
through  the  theatre,  and  from  the  audience,  stupid 
at  first  with  surprise,  and  wild  afterward  with  ex- 
citement and  horror,  men  jumped  upon  the  stage 
in  pursuit  of  the  assassin.  But  he  ran  through 
the  familiar  passages,  leaped  upon  his  horse,  re- 
warding with  a  kick  and  a  curse  the  boy  who  held 
him,  and  escaped  into  the  night. 

The  President  scarcely  moved.  His  head 
drooped  forward  slightly,  his  eyes  closed.  Major 
Rathbone,  not  regarding  his  own  grievous  hurt, 
rushed  to  the  door  to  summon  aid.  He  found  it 
barred,  and  someone  on  the  outside  beating  and 
clamoring  to  get  in.  It  was  at  once  seen  that  the 
President's  wound  was  mortal.  He  was  carried 
across  the  street  to  a  house  opposite,  and  laid 
upon  a  bed.  Mrs.  Lincoln  followed,  tenderly 
cared  for  by  Miss  Harris.  Rathbone,  exhausted 
by  loss  of  blood,  fainted,  and  was  taken  home. 
Messengers  were  sent  for  the  cabinet,  for  the 
Surgeon-General,  for  Dr.  Stone  the  President's 
family  physician,  and  for  others  whose  official  or 
private  relations  with  Mr.  Lincoln  gave  them  the 
right  to  be  there.  A  crowd  of  people  rushed  in- 
stinctively to  the  White  House,  and  bursting 
through  the  doors,  shouted  the  dreadful  news  to 


s88  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

Robert  Lincoln  and  Major  Hay  who  sat  together 
in  an  upper  room. 

The  President  had  been  shot  a  few  minutes 
after  ten  o'clock.  The  wound  would  have 
brought  instant  death  to  most  men.  He  was  un- 
conscious from  the  first  moment,  but  he  breathed 
throughout  the  night,  his  gaunt  face  scarcely 
paler  than  those  of  the  sorrowing  men  around 
him.  At  twenty-two  minutes  past  seven  in  the 
morning  he  died.  Secretary  Stanton  broke  the 
silence  by  saying,  "Now  he  belongs  to  the  ages." 

Booth  had  done  his  work  thoroughly.  His 
principal  accomplice  had  acted  with  equal  audac- 
ity and  cruelty,  but  with  less  fatal  result.  Under 
pretext  of  having  a  package  of  medicine  to  de- 
liver, he  forced  his  way  to  the  room  of  the  Secre- 
tary of  State,  who  lay  ill,  and  attacked  him,  in- 
flicting three  terrible  knife  wounds  on  his  neck 
and  cheek,  wounding  also  the  Secretary's  two 
sons,  a  servant,  and  a  soldier  nurse  who  tried  to 
overpower  him.  Finally  breaking  away,  he  ran 
downstairs,  reached  the  door  unhurt,  and  spring- 
ing upon  his  horse  rode  off.  It  was  feared  that 
neither  the  Secretary  nor  his  eldest  son  would 
live,  but  both  in  time  recovered. 

Although  Booth  had  been  recognized  by 
dozens  of  people  as  he  stood  before  the  footlights 
brandishing  his  dagger,  his  swift  horse  soon  car- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  289 

ried  him  beyond  any  hap-hazard  pursuit.  He 
crossed  the  Navy  Yard  bridge  and  rode  into 
Maryland,  being  joined  by  one  of  his  fellow-con- 
spirators. A  surgeon  named  Mudd  set  Booth's 
leg  and  sent  him  on  his  desolate  way.  For  ten 
days  the  two  men  lived  the  lives  of  hunted  ani- 
mals. On  the  night  of  April  25  they  were  sur- 
rounded as  they  lay  sleeping  in  a  barn  in  Caroline 
County,  Virginia.  Booth  refused  to  surrender. 
The  barn  was  fired,  and  while  it  was  burning  he 
was  shot  by  Boston  Corbett,  a  sergeant  of  cav- 
alry. He  lingered  for  about  three  hours  in  great 
pain,  and  died  at  seven  in  the  morning.  The  re- 
maining conspirators  were  tried  by  military 
commission.  Four  were  hanged,  including  the 
assailant  of  Secretary  Seward,  and  the  others 
were  sentenced  to  imprisonment  for  various 
lengths  of  time. 

Upon  the  hearts  of  a  people  glowing  with  the 
joy  of  victory  the  news  of  the  President's  death 
fell  as  a  great  shock.  In  the  unspeakable  cal- 
amity the  country  lost  sight  of  the  great  national 
successes  of  the  past  week;  and  thus  it  came  to 
pass  that  there  was  never  any  organized  celebra- 
tion in  the  North  over  the  downfall  of  the  re- 
bellion. It  was  unquestionably  best  that  it  should 
be  so.  Lincoln  himself  would  not  have  had  it 
otherwise,  for  he  hated  the  arrogance  of  triumph. 


29o  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

As  it  was,  the  South  could  take  no  offense  at  a 
grief  so  genuine;  and  the  people  of  that  section 
even  shared,  to  a  certain  extent,  in  the  mourning 
for  one  who,  in  their  inmost  hearts,  they  knew 
to  have  wished  them  well. 

Within  an  hour  after  Mr.  Lincoln's  body  was 
taken  to  the  White  House  the  town  was  shrouded 
in  black.  Not  only  the  public  buildings,  the 
shops,  and  the  better  class  of  dwellings  were 
draped  in  funeral  decorations;  still  more  touch- 
ing proof  of  affection  was  shown  in  the  poorest 
class  of  homes,  where  laboring  men  of  both 
colors  found  means  in  their  poverty  to  afford 
some  scanty  bit  of  mourning.  The  interest  and 
veneration  of  the  people  still  centered  at  the 
White  House,  where,  under  a  tall  catafalque  in 
the  East  Room  the  late  chief  lay  in  the  majesty 
of  death,  rather  than  in  the  modest  tavern  on 
Pennsylvania  Avenue,  where  the  new  President 
had  his  lodgings,  and  where  the  Chief  Justice 
administered  the  oath  of  office  to  him  at  eleven 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  April  15. 

It  was  determined  that  the  funeral  ceremonies 
in  Washington  should  be  held  on  Wednesday, 
April  19,  and  all  the  churches  throughout  the 
country  were  invited  to  join  at  the  same  time  in 
appropriate  observances.  The  ceremonies  in  the 
East  Room  were  simple  and  brief,  while  all  the 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


291 


pomp  and  circumstance  that  the  government 
could  command  were  employed  to  give  a  fitting 
escort  from  the  Executive  Mansion  to  the 
Capitol,  where  the  body  of  the  President  lay  in 
state.  The  procession  moved  to  the  booming  of 
minute  guns,  and  the  tolling  of  all  the  bells  in 
Washington,  Georgetown  and  Alexandria ;  while, 


THE   FUNERAL  CAR 


to  associate  the  pomp  of  the  day  with  the  great- 
est work  of  Lincoln's  life,  a  detachment  of  col- 
ored troops  marched  at  the  head  of  the  line. 

When  it  was  announced  that  he  was  to  be 
buried  at  Springfield  every  town  and  city  on  the 
way  begged  that  the  train  might  halt  within  its 
limits,  to  give  its  people  opportunity  of  showing 
their  grief  and  reverence.  It  was  finally  ar- 
ranged that  the  funeral  cortege  should  follow 


292  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

substantially  the  same  route  over  which  Lincoln 
had  come  in  1861  to  take  possession  of  the  office 
to  which  he  added  a  new  dignity  and  value  for 
all  time.  On  April  21,  accompanied  by  a  guard 
of  honor,  and  in  a  train  decked  with  somber  trap- 
pings, the  journey  was  begun.  At  Baltimore, 
through  which,  four  years  before,  it  was  a  ques- 
tion whether  the  President-elect  could  pass  with 
safety  to  his  life,  the  coffin  was  taken  with  rever- 
ent care  to  the  great  dome  of  the  Exchange, 
where,  surrounded  with  evergreens  and  lilies,  it 
lay  for  several  hours,  the  people  passing  by  in 
mournful  throngs.  The  same  demonstration  was 
repeated,  gaining  constantly  in  depth  of  feeling 
and  solemn  splendor  of  display  in  every  city 
through  which  the  procession  passed.  In  New 
York  came  General  Scott,  pale  and  feeble,  but 
resolute,  to  pay  his  tribute  of  respect  to  his  de- 
parted friend  and  commander. 

Springfield  was  reached  on  the  morning  of 
May  3.  The  body  lay  in  state  in  the  Capitol, 
which  was  richly  draped  from  roof  to  basement  in 
black  velvet  and  silver  fringe,  while  within  it  was 
a  bower  of  bloom  and  fragrance.  For  twenty- 
four  hours  an  unbroken  stream  of  people  passed 
through,  bidding  their  friend  and  neighbor  wel- 
come home  and  farewell.  At  ten  o'clock  on  the 
morning  of  May  4  the  coffin  lid  was  closed,  and 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


193 


a  vast  procession  moved  out  to  Oak  Ridge,  where 
the  town  had  set  apart  a  lovely  spot  for  his  grave. 
Here  the  dead  President  was  committed  to  the 


THE    MONUMENT    AT    SPRINGFIELD.         (AFTER     A     PHOTOGRAPH 
TAKEN    BY  J.    A.    W.    PITTMAN   FOR  J.    C.    POWER) 


soil  of  the  State  which  had  so  loved  and  honored 
him.  The  ceremonies  at  the  grave  were  simple 
and  touching.  Bishop  Simpson  delivered  a  pa- 
thetic oration,  prayers  were  offered,  and  hymns 


294  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

were  sung,  but  the  weightiest  and  most  eloquent 
words  uttered  anywhere  that  day  were  those  of 
the  Second  Inaugural,  which  the  Committee  had 
wisely  ordained  to  be  read  over  his  grave,  as  cen- 
turies before,  the  friends  of  the  painter  Raphael 
chose  the  incomparable  canvas  of  "The  Transfig- 
uration" to  be  the  chief  ornament  of  his  funeral. 

Though  President  Lincoln  lived  to  see  the  real 
end  of  the  war,  various  bodies  of  Confederate 
troops  continued  to  hold  out  for  some  time  longer. 
General  Johnston  faced  Sherman's  army  in  the 
Carolinas  until  April  26,  while  General  E.  Kirby 
Smith,  west  of  the  Mississippi  River,  did  not  sur- 
render until  May  26. 

As  rapidly  as  possible  Union  volunteer  regi- 
ments were  disbanded,  and  soon  the  mighty  host 
of  1,000,000  men  was  reduced  to  a  peace  footing 
of  only  25,000.  Before  the  great  army  melted 
away  into  the  greater  body  of  citizens  its  soldiers 
enjoyed  one  final  triumph — a  march  through  the 
capital  of  the  nation,  undisturbed  by  death  or 
danger,  under  the  eyes  of  their  highest  com- 
manders and  the  representatives  of  the  people 
whose  country  they  had  saved.  Those  who  wit- 
nessed the  solemn  yet  joyous  pageant  will  never 
forget  it ;  and  pray  that  their  children  may  never 
see  its  like.  For  two  days  this  formidable  host 
marched  the  long  stretch  of  Pennsylvania  Ave- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  295 

nue,  starting  from  the  shadow  of  the  Capitol  and 
filling  the  wide  street  as  far  as  Georgetown,  its 
serried  ranks  moving  with  the  easy  yet  rapid  pace 
of  veterans  in  cadence  step.  As  a  mere  spectacle 
this  march  of  the  mightiest  host  the  continent 
has  ever  seen  was  grand  and  imposing,  but  it  was 
not  as  a  spectacle  alone  that  it  affected  the  be- 
holder. It  was  no  holiday  parade.  It  was  an 
army  of  citizens  on  their  way  home  after  a  long 
and  terrible  war.  Their  clothes  were  worn,  and 
pierced  with  bullets,  their  banners  had  been  torn 
with  shot  and  shell,  and  lashed  in  the  winds  of 
many  battles.  The  very  drums  and  fifes  had 
called  out  the  troops  to  night  alarms,  and  sounded 
the  onset  on  historic  fields.  The  whole  country 
claimed  these  heroes  as  part  of  themselves.  They 
were  not  soldiers  by  profession  or  from  love  of 
fighting;  they  had  become  soldiers  only  to  save 
their  country's  life.  Now,  done  with  war,  they 
were  going  joyously  and  peaceably  back  to  their 
homes  to  take  up  the  tasks  they  had  willingly 
laid  down  in  the  hour  of  their  country's  need. 

Friends  loaded  them  with  flowers  as  they 
swung  down  the  Avenue — both  men  and  officers, 
until  some  were  fairly  hidden  under  their  frag- 
rant burden.  Grotesque  figures  were  not  absent, 
as  Sherman's  legions  passed  with  their  "bum- 
mers" and  their  regimental  pets.     But  with  all 


296  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

the  shouting  and  the  joy  there  was,  in  the  minds 
of  all  who  saw  it,  one  sad  and  ever-recurring 
thought — the  memory  of  the  men  who  were  ab- 
sent, and  who  had,  nevertheless,  so  richly  earned 
the  right  to  be  there.  The  soldiers  in  their 
shrunken  companies  thought  of  the  brave  com- 
rades who  had  fallen  by  the  way;  and  through 
the  whole  vast  army  there  was  passionate  un- 
availing regret  for  their  wise,  gentle  and  power- 
ful friend  Abraham  Lincoln,  gone  forever  from 
the  big  white  house  by  the  Avenue — who  had 
called  the  great  host  into  being,  directed  the 
course  of  the  nation  during  the  four  years  that 
they  had  been  battling  for  its  life,  and  to  whom, 
more  than  to  any  other,  this  crowning  peaceful 
pageant  would  have  been  full  of  deep  and  happy 
meaning. 

Why  was  this  man  so  loved  that  his  death 
caused  a  whole  nation  to  forget  its  triumph,  and 
turned  its  gladness  into  mourning?  Why  has 
his  fame  grown  with  the  passing  years  until  now 
scarcely  a  speech  is  made  or  a  newspaper  printed 
that  does  not  have  within  it  somewhere  a  men- 
tion of  his  name  or  some  phrase  or  sentence  that 
fell  from  his  lips?  Let  us  see  if  we  can,  what  it 
was  that  made  Abraham  Lincoln  the  man  that 
he  became. 

A  child  born  to  an  inheritance  of  want;  a  boy 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  297 

growing  into  a  narrow  world  of  ignorance;  a 
youth  taking  up  the  burden  of  coarse  and  heavy 
labor;  a  man  entering  on  the  doubtful  struggle 
of  a  local  backwoods  career — these  were  the  be- 
ginnings of  Abraham  Lincoln  if  we  look  at  them 
only  in  the  hard  practical  spirit  which  takes  for 
its  motto  that  "Nothing  succeeds  but  success." 
If  we  adopt  a  more  generous  as  well  as  a  truer 
view,  then  we  see  that  it  was  the  brave  hopeful 
spirit,  the  strong  active  mind,  and  the  great  law 
of  moral  growth  that  accepts  the  good  and  rejects 
the  bad,  which  Nature  gave  this  obscure  child, 
that  carried  him  to  the  service  of  mankind  and 
the  admiration  of  the  centuries  as  certainly  as  the 
acorn  grows  to  be  the  oak. 

Even  his  privations  helped  the  end.  Self- 
reliance,  the  strongest  trait  of  the  pioneer  was 
his  by  blood  and  birth  and  training,  and  was 
developed  by  the  hardships  of  his  lot  to  the 
mighty  power  needed  to  guide  our  country 
through  the  struggle  of  the  Civil  War. 

The  sense  of  equality  was  his  also,  for  he  grew 
from  childhood  to  manhood  in  a  state  of  society 
where  there  were  neither  rich  to  envy  nor  poor  to 
despise,  and  where  the  gifts  and  hardships  of  the 
forest  were  distributed  without  favor  to  each  and 
all  alike.  In  the  forest  he  learned  charity,  sym- 
pathy, helpfulness— in  a  word  neighborliness — 


a98  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

for  in  that  far-off  frontier  life  all  the  wealth  of 
India,  had  a  man  possessed  it,  could  not  have 
bought  relief  from  danger  or  help  in  time  of  need, 
and  neighborliness  became  of  prime  importance. 
Constant  opportunity  was  found  there  to  prac- 
tice the  virtue  which  Christ  declared  to  be  next 
to  the  love  of  God — to  love  one's  neighbor  as  one- 
self. 

In  such  settlements,  far  removed  from  courts 
and  jails,  men  were  brought  face  to  face  with 
questions  of  natural  right.  The  pioneers  not 
only  understood  the  American  doctrine  of  self- 
government— they  lived  it.  It  was  this  under- 
standing, this  feeling,  which  taught  Lincoln  to 
write:  "When  the  white  man  governs  himself, 
that  is  self-government;  but  when  he  governs 
himself  and  also  governs  another  man,  that  is 
more  than  self-government — that  is  despotism;" 
and  also  to  give  utterance  to  its  twin  truth :  "He 
who  would  be  no  slave  must  consent  to  have  no 
slave." 

Lincoln  was  born  in  the  slave  State  of  Ken- 
tucky. He  lived  there  only  a  short  time,  and  we 
have  reason  to  believe  that  wherever  he  might 
have  grown  up,  his  very  nature  would  have 
spurned  the  doctrine  and  practice  of  human 
slavery.  Yet,  though  he  hated  slavery,  he  never 
hated  the  slave-holder.     His  feeling  of  pardon^ 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  299 

and  sympathy  for  Kentucky  and  the  South  played 
no  unimportant  part  in  his  dealings  with  grave 
problems  of  statesmanship.  It  is  true  that  he 
struck  slavery  its  death  blow  with  the  hand  of 
war,  but  at  the  same  time  he  offered  the  slave- 
owner golden  payment  with  the  hand  of  peace. 

Abraham  Lincoln  was  not  an  ordinary  man. 
He  was,  in  truth,  in  the  language  of  the  poet 
Lowell,  a  "new  birth  of  our  new  soil."  His  great- 
ness did  not  consist  in  growing  up  on  the  fron- 
tier. An  ordinary  man  would  have  found  on  the 
frontier  exactly  what  he  would  have  found  else- 
where— a  commonplace  life,  varying  only  with 
the  changing  ideas  and  customs  of  time  and  place. 
But  for  the  man  with  extraordinary  powers  of 
mind  and  body — for  one  gifted  by  Nature  as 
Abraham  Lincoln  was  gifted,  the  pioneer  life 
with  its  severe  training  in  self-denial,  patience 
and  industry,  developed  his  character,  and  fitted 
him  for  the  great  duties  of  his  after  life  as  no 
other  training  could  have  done. 

His  advancement  in  the  astonishing  career  that 
carried  him  from  obscurity  to  world-wide  fame — 
from  postmaster  of  New  Salem  village  to  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States,  from  captain  of  a  back- 
woods volunteer  company  to  Commander-in- 
Chief  of  the  Army  and  Navy,  was  neither  sudden 
nor  accidental,  nor  easy.    He  was  both  ambitious 


3oo  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

and  successful,  but  his  ambition  was  moderate, 
and  his  success  was  slow.  And,  because  his  suc- 
cess was  slow,  it  never  outgrew  either  his  judg- 
ment or  his  powers.  Between  the  day  when  he 
left  his  father's  cabin  and  launched  his  canoe  on 
the  headwaters  of  the  Sangamon  River  to  begin 
life  on  his  own  account,  and  the  day  of  his  first 
inauguration,  lay  full  thirty  years  of  toil,  self- 
denial,  patience;  often  of  effort  baffled,  of  hope 
deferred;  sometimes  of  bitter  disappointment. 
Even  with  the  natural  gift  of  great  genius  it  re- 
quired an  average  lifetime  and  faithful  unrelax- 
ing  effort,  to  transform  the  raw  country  stripling 
into  a  fit  ruler  for  this  great  nation. 

Almost  every  success  was  balanced — some- 
times overbalanced,  by  a  seeming  failure.  He 
went  into  the  Black  Hawk  war  a  captain,  and 
through  no  fault  of  his  own,  came  out  a  private. 
He  rode  to  the  hostile  frontier  on  horseback,  and 
trudged  home  on  foot.  His  store  "winked  out." 
His  surveyor's  compass  and  chain,  with  which  he 
was  earning  a  scanty  living,  were  sold  for  debt. 
He  was  defeated  in  his  first  attempts  to  be  nomi- 
nated for  the  legislature  and  for  Congress;  de- 
feated in  his  application  to  be  appointed  Commis- 
sioner of  the  General  Land  Office;  defeated  for 
the  Senate  when  he  had  forty-five  votes  to  begin 
with,  by  a  man  who  had  only  five  votes  to  begin 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  301 

with;  defeated  again  after  his  joint  debates  with 
Douglas ;  defeated  in  the  nomination  for  Vice- 
President,  when  a  favorable  nod  from  half  a 
dozen  politicians  would  have  brought  him 
success. 

Failures  ?  Not  so.  Every  seeming  defeat  was 
a  slow  success.  His  was  the  growth  of  the  oak, 
and  not  of  Jonah's  gourd.  He  could  not  become 
a  master  workman  until  he  had  served  a  tedious 
apprenticeship.  It  was  the  quarter  of  a  century 
of  reading,  thinking,  speech-making  and  law- 
making which  fitted  him  to  be  the  chosen  cham- 
pion of  freedom  in  the  great  Lincoln-Douglas 
debates  of  1858.  It  was  the  great  moral  victory 
won  in  those  debates  (although  the  senatorship 
went  to  Douglas)  added  to  the  title  "Honest  Old 
Abe,"  won  by  truth  and  manhood  among  his 
neighbors  during  a  whole  lifetime,  that  led  the 
people  of  the  United  States  to  trust  him  with  the 
duties  and  powers  of  President. 

And  when,  at  last,  after  thirty  years  of  en- 
deavor, success  had  beaten  down  defeat,  when 
Lincoln  had  been  nominated,  elected  and  inaugu-* 
rated,  came  the  crowning  trial  of  his  faith  and 
constancy.  When  the  people,  by  free  and  lawful 
choice,  had  placed  honor  and  power  in  his  hands, 
when  his  name  could  convene  Congress,  approve 
laws,  cause  ships  to  sail  and  armies  to  move,  there 


302  THE  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

suddenly  came  upon  the  government  and  the 
nation  a  fatal  paralysis.  Honor  seemed  to 
dwindle  and  power  to  vanish.  Was  he  then  after 
all  not  to  be  President?  Was  patriotism  dead? 
Was  the  Constitution  only  a  bit  of  waste  paper? 
Was  the  Union  gone  ? 

The  outlook  was  indeed  grave.  There  was 
treason  in  Congress,  treason  in  the  Supreme 
Court,  treason  in  the  army  and  navy.  Confusion 
and  discord  were  everywhere.  To  use  Mr.  Lin- 
coln's forcible  figure  of  speech,  sinners  were  call- 
ing the  righteous  to  repentance.  Finally  the  flag, 
insulted  and  fired  upon,  trailed  in  surrender  at 
Sumter ;  and  then  came  the  humiliation  of  the  riot 
at  Baltimore,  and  the  President  for  a  few  days 
practically  a  prisoner  in  the  capital  of  the  nation. 

But  his  apprenticeship  had  been  served,  and 
there  was  to  be  no  more  failure.  With  faith  and 
justice  and  generosity  he  conducted  for  four  long 
years  a  war  whose  frontiers  stretched  from  the 
Potomac  to  the  Rio  Grande ;  whose  soldiers  num- 
bered a  million  men  on  each  side.  The  labor,  the 
thought,  the  responsibility,  the  strain  of  mind  and 
anguish  of  soul  that  he  gave  to  this  great  task, 
who  can  measure?  "Here  was  place  for  no  holi- 
day magistrate,  no  fair  weather  sailor,"  as  Emer- 
son justly  said  of  him.  "The  new  pilot  was  hur- 
ried to  the  helm  in  a  tornado.     In  four  years — 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  303 

four  years  of  battle  days— his  endurance,  his 
fertility  of  resources,  his  magnanimity,  were 
sorely  tried  and  never  found  wanting."  "By  his 
courage,  his  justice,  his  even  temper,  .  .  . 
his  humanity,  he  stood  a  heroic  figure  in  the 
centre  of  a  heroic  epoch." 

What  but  a  lifetime's  schooling  in  disappoint- 
ment, what  but  the  pioneer's  self-reliance  and 
freedom  from  prejudice,  what  but  the  clear  mind, 
quick  to  see  natural  right  and  unswerving  in  its 
purpose  to  follow  it;  what  but  the  steady  self- 
control,  the  unwarped  sympathy,  the  unbounded 
charity  of  this  man  with  spirit  so  humble  and  soul 
so  great,  could  have  carried  him  through  the 
labors  he  wrought  to  the  victory  he  attained? 

With  truth  it  could  be  written,  "His  heart  was 
as  great  as  the  world,  but  there  was  no  room  in  it 
to  hold  the  memory  of  a  wrong."  So,  "with 
malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for  all,  with 
firmness  in  the  right  as  God  gave  him  to  see  the 
right"  he  lived  and  died.  We  who  have  never 
seen  him  yet  feel  daily  the  influence  of  his  kindly 
life,  and  cherish  among  our  most  precious  pos- 
sessions the  heritage  of  his  example. 


THE  END 


Sijjfij 


>W",a«|; 


